Tales  of  CeletirHied  Highwaymen  ^ 


BY  THE   AUTHOR  OF 


TOM  KING,  CLAUDE  DUVAL 


ETC..  ETC..  ETC 


'■'"^P 


NEW    YORK: 

DICK  &  FITZGERALD,  PUBLISHERS, 

\o.    IS    AKN    STREET 


U.OR?.   ^.N 


Price   Tiventv-Five    Gents. 


""l^ 


DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


treasure  %2om 


THE  ADVENTDBES 


FEARLESS    FRED, 


THE     OUTLAW. 


BY  THB 


SDtfior  of  -Ned  Scarlet;"  "Dick  Cllntou:"  -Clande  Dnval;"  "IPaul  CUBatAf 
"Tom  Kiag;"  "Capt.  Hawk;"  Ac,  Aa 


VIW    TOKJC; 
DICK    A    FITZGERALD,    FUBLI8HIB8 


FEARLESS     FRED; 

THE    HIGHWAYMAN 


OP 


HOUNSLOW      HEATH, 


CHAPTER  t 

rjRST   APPEARANCE    OF   FEARLESS     FRED. 

Some  years  ago,  on  a  raw  November 
day,  there  was  considerable  stir  in  the 
neigborhood  of  St.  Giles  on  account  of  a 
fiae  looking  male  child  that  bad  been 
found  singularly  stowed  away  in  one 
corner  of  the  top-row  of  a  celebrated 
beer  show. 

Old  Boniface,  whose  name  was  Ralph 
Jewel — and  a  jewel  of  an  old  boy  he  was 
— appeared  so  anxious  to  deny  the  pa- 
ternity of  the  foundling  that  many  a 
black-eyed  lass  who  frequented  that  part 
of  London  dared  to  suspect  that  he  knew 
more  about  the  matter  than  he  was  will- 
ing to  confess,  and  that,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  there  was  no  more  resem- 
blance between  the  supposed  father  and 
the  child  than  there  is  between  a  noble 
war-horse  and  aD  asthmatic  pair  of  bel 
lows. 

The  sly  winks  and  wise  looks  that 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  exasperated 
old  Jewel  beyond  all  bounds.  He  »tamp- 
ed  about  the  floor  with  his  wooden  leg, 
and  fire  shot  from  his  one  rnd  eye,  as  if 


he  was  ready  to  do  battle  with  a  host  in 
defence  of  his  innocence. 

"  But  what  will  you  do  with  the  lad?' 
inquired  Botany  Bay  Nell — a  strapping 
lass  who  Lad  just  returned  from  a  seven 
years'  tran.sportation — as  she  placed  her 
arms  akimbo  and  straddled  in  front  of 
the  indignant  landlord. 

"  Throw  him  into  the  Thames  T  cried 
mine  host  thrusting  out  his  wooden  leg 
and  bringing  the  end  of  it  down  on  the 
floor  with  such  violence  as  to  make  all 
the  glasses  and  empty  decanters  ring 
again. 

"  That  you  shall  not,"  cried  Nell,  pick- 
ing up  the  urchin  and  stowing  him  into 
a  big  basket  as  if  he  had  been  a  wadding 
of  dirty  clothes.  "  I  will  take  charge  of 
the  brat  as  if  I  was  his  mother,  and  who 
knows  but  when  I  have  given  him  an 
education  and  brought  him  up  in  the  way 
he  should  go,  he  may  take  care  of  me  in 
my  old  age,  and  bring  me  in  the  blunt, 
when  I  am  too  old  to " 

"  To  take  dummies  for  yourself,"  in- 
terrupted Ralph  Jewel — "ha!  ha!  ha 
wnea  you  get  too  old  for  that,  Nell,  it 
will  be  because  scragging  has  gone  clear 
out  of  date.     You  were  never  born  to 


1  ^  (  :t  1 1  a  1  d  u  i  j  'i  ,  a  a  l'aa  y  :^  i 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


naako  old  bones  ;  and  the  doril  help  the 
brat  after  the  bringing  up  that  you  will 
give  him.  But  take  him  along,  Noll ;  he 
might  have  fell  into  worse  hands" — the 
last  words  being  added  on  account  of  a 
tiger-like  expression  of  the  eyes  which 
the  lusty  girl  cast  upon  her  interlocutor, 
and  also  the  fact  that  Nell  was  no  indif- 
ferent customer   at    the  Black    Horse 

From  that  moment,  nothing  was  heard 
of  the  foundling  in  that  corner  of  the 
city  of  London,  except  that  h^  was  nam- 
ed Frederick  and  was  regularly  sent  to 
the  parish  sohool  by  Nell  Pritthand, 
commonly  known  as  Botany  Bay  Nell — 
a  euphonious  title  by  which  she  was 
known  in  her  absence,  though  few  cared 
to  give  her  that  appellation  when  within 
earshot  of  the  strapping  graduate  of  New 
Uollaud. 

CHAPTER  IL 

fEARLKSS  FRED  AND  JANE — THE  CEDAR 
BOX. 

It  was  about  nineteen  years  from  the 
period  in  which  our  scene  opens,  that  a 
fracas  occurred  in  the  streets  of  London^ 
at  the  hour  of  midnight,  which  caused 
no  little  alarm  to  the  denizens  in  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood  of  the  transaction. 

Loud  cries  were  beard,  expressive  of 
great  wrath  on  the  part  of  some  of  the 
parties,  while  from  the  midst  of  the  up- 
roar went  up  one  solitary,  wild  scream 
iu  which  the  voice  of  afcmalewajid^t'ct- 
ed.  :)  i>n,-i   u  nw< 

On  hastening  to  the  spot,  the  watch- 
man found  a  well-dressed  young  woman 
of  some  eighteen  or  twenty  years  of  age 
in  the  hands  of  half  a  dozen  ruffians, 
while  a  young  fellow,  neatly  dressed  as 
a  seaman  was  belaboring  them  with  a 
cudgel,  and  endeavoring  to  rescue  the 
girl  from  their  clutches.  By  the  aid  of 
the  watchman,  this  was  quickly  done,  and 


then  the  girl  sprang  into  the  nrras  of  ihe     -;-.       v 

young  fellow  whom  she  very  affectionate-    , 

ly  called  her  dear  Fred.  '    '  '^ 

"Jane,"  said  he,  "you  are  not  hurt,  I 
hope  ?"  Before  she  could  reply,  a  tall 
raw-boned  fellow  who  had  just  released 
the  girl  from  his  grasp  on  a  hint  from 
the  watchman's  club,  came  up  and  de- 
manded the  youth  as  a  common  highway- 
man, and  declared  that  ho  had  stolen  the 
girl  from  the  house  of  a  certain  Count- 
ess, and  he  was  come  to  recapture  her  ; 
to  which  the  girl  replied — "  no — no — the 
Countess  is  my  enemy,  and  has  ill-treat- 
ed me.     I  will  go  with  Fred." 

Before  anything  more  could  be  said, 
the  young  man  and  the  girl  walked  ofl 
together. 

"I  am  Peter  Bay  ley,"  said  the  tall 
man,  "  and  have  been  sent  with  these  of- 
ficers to  apprehend  the  girl  and  return 
her  to  the  Ouuntess  from  whom  she  has 
escaped,"  and  he  pointed  to  throe  men 
who  came  clustering  around  him.  But 
it  was  too  late.  Fred  and  Jane  had 
turned  the  first  corner,  and  though  the 
watchman  went  a  little  way  with  Bayley 
and  his  men  to  look  for  them,  they  were 
not  to  be  found. 

'*'  You  are  Peter  Bayley,  the  famous 
thief  taker,"  said  one  of  the  watchmen. 
"  Why  did  you  not  say  it  at  the  time, 
and  things  might  have  turned  up  dififer- 
ently  ?" 

"  You  know  who  I  am  now."  said  Pe- 
ter Bayley,  "and  this  night's  work  will 
cost  you  dear.  There  have  slipped  out 
of  my  hands  two  of  the  most  abandoned 
wretches  in  all  England.  Look  out  for 
yourselves,  I  shall  remember  you." 

The  watchmen  skulked  off  with  eyes 
cast  down,  and  yet  with  low  muttering* 
which  denoted  that  although  the  notori- 
ous thief-taker  might  be  feared,  yet  he 
was  also  hated  quite  as  much  as  ho  wan 
dreaded. 

Leaving  Peter  Bayley  to  curse  hid 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


8 


Btars  and  the  uitrnsive  charleys,  we  will 
follow  upon  the  footsteps  of  the  young 
couple,  and  see  what  became  of  them. 
They  ran.  rather  than  walked,  along  the 
silent  streets  of  the  city,  something  less 
than  two  miles,  when  they  reached  an 
old  house,  constructed  in  the  ancient 
style  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  wide 
green,  and  partly  surrounded  by  lime 
trees  and  elms. 

Having  tapped  at  the  door,  it  was 
opened  to  them  by  a  man  in  a  blue  coat 
and  corduroy  pants,  who  hurried  them 
in  and  shut  the  door  quickly. 

"  Well,  Blake,'  said  the  yof th,  «  what 
is  the  news  ?" 

"  Nothing  except  that  Peter  Bayley 
and  his  men  have  been  watching  this 
house  all  the  afternoon,  and  I  think  it 
pretty  certain  that  he  knows  the  cedar 
box  is  concealed  within  its  walls." 

"  Then  no  time  is  to  be  lost,"  said  Fred. 
"  Here  are  two  young  girls  who  are 
thrown,  by  circumstances  upon  my  pro- 
tection. This  one,"  pointing  to  a  tall 
young  woman  who  was  in  the  house, 
"  has  need  to  keep  out  of  sight  for  a  few 
days,  while  my  Jane  here  has  every 
reason  to  dread  the  unprincipled  Bayley. 
This  cedar  box  certainly  contains  some- 
thing of  vast  importance  to  Jane,  and 
must  be  kept  out  of  the  clutches  of  Peter 
Bayley,  whose  very  eagerness  to  seize  it, 
affords  presumptive  evidence  that  some 
wrong  is  intended  towards  Jane.  The 
treatment  that  she  has  received  from 
the  Countess,  from  whom  she  ha->?  fled,  is 
another  proof  that  a  plot  of  some  kind  is 
hatching  against  her  peace.  At  least, 
we  cannot  venture  out  again  together." 

"  No ;  you  would  be  certain  to  en- 
counter him  or  some  of  bis  myrmidons. 
You  must  hide  yourself  until  his  visit  of 
inspection  is  over.  I  have  been  with 
him  in  this  house  before,  and  I  noticed 
that  there  was  a  narrow  staircase  that 
leads  t«  a  flat  part  of  the  roof  at  the  top 


of  it.  There,  I  thint  you  will  be  in 
perfect  security,  for  Bayley  has  no  mo- 
tive to  take  him  un  there,  and  his  time 
is  too  much  occupied  for  him  to  go  mere* 
ly  for  the  view  of  old  Islington  that  he 
would  get  from  that  place.'* 

"  Hush  I"  said  Fred.  "  What  if 
that  ?" 

"What  do  you  hear?" 

"  The  tread  of  horses'  feet  in  the 
street,   unless  I  am   much    mistaken." 

*'  Then  it  is  Peter  himself" 

Blake  flew  to  the  street  door,  and  shot 
one  of  the  bolts  into  its  socket. 

"  He  can't  get  in  now,"  he  said,  "  un* 
til  I  open  the  door  to  him.  Get  your 
friends  to  go  at  once  to  the  hiding  place 
I  have  mentioned." 

"  I  will.     Come  this  way.'' 

Fred  led  Blake  into  the  back  parlor, 
and  quieted  the  alarm  that  his  sudden 
appearance  gave  to  Jane  and  Eliza,  by 
saying — 

"  This  is  a  friend.  He  warns  us  of 
the  approach  of  Peter  Bayley  ;  wc  must 
hide  ourselves  at  once." 

"  Oh,"  said  Blake, «  what  will  he  think 
of  this  breakfast  set  out  here  ?" 

"  Say  it  Is  yours,"  said  Fred.,  as  he 
caught  up  two  of  the  tea-cups  and  threw 
them  into  the  fire.  "There  is  but  one 
cup  now,  and  he  may  think  that  yon 
liked  to  make  yourself  comfortable." 

"  I  will  try  so  to  impose  upon  him, 
but  that  must  not  be  any  hindrance  to 
your  hiding.       Follow  me  at  once." 

Bang  !  came  a  knock  at  the  door, and 
then  it  was  followed  by  a  idttling  peal 
at  the  bell,  which  Bayley  had  found  out 
the  position  of,  although  it  was  so  secret- 
ly placed  as  to  completely  elude  all  or- 
dinary observation  ;  but  the  prying  eyee 
of  Peter  were  not  easily  to  be  deceived. 

"  Quick— quick  !"  said  Blake. 

Fred  assisted  Jane,  and  Eliza  follow- 
ed as  well  as  she  could,  and  they  all  got 
to  the  upper  story  of  the  house  with 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


tolerable  expedition.  Eliza  knew  very 
well  the  door  that  opened  to  a  spiral 
staircase  leading  to  the  flat  leads  at  the 
top  of  the  house,  and  in  the  course  of 
half  a  minute  more  they  had  all  three 
passed  through  the  little  door,  and  Blake 
was  hurrying  down  stairs  again,  for  Bay- 
ley  had  knocked  with  such  fury  as  show- 
ed hira  that  it  aeemed  as  if  he  were  de- 
termined to  have  the  door  down  if  uo  one 
came  quickly  in  answer  to  his  summons 
Blake  was  almost  breathless  with  the 
haste  that  he  made  when  he  flung  the 
door  open.  Peter  B.iyley,  with  four 
men  at  his  heels,  made  a  rush  into  the 
passage. 

"What's  the  meaning   of  this?"   he 
cried.     '•  Why  am  I  kept  waiting  at  the 
door  ?     Is  there  any  trickery  going  on 
here?" 
'•  Trickery,  sir  ?" 

"Yes.     That  was  the  word.     I  said 
trickery,  and  I  mean  it  " 

"  He  would  need  to  be  a  bold  man, 
Mr.  Bayley,  that  would  try  anything  like 
trickery  towards  you,  sir.  I  am  not  yet 
tired  of  my  life.  The  fact  is,  there  is  an 
old  mulberry-tree  in  the  garden,  and  I 
was  looking  at  it,  and  could  not  get  to  the 
door  very  soon," 
"  So  it  seems." 

"  Did  you  knock  more  than  once,  sir  V' 
"You  know  I  did." 
"  It  isn't  for  me  to  contradict  you, 
Mr.  Bayley  ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  I  don't 
know  anytliing  of  the  sort.     I  heard  a 
knock  that  was    enough  to  batter  the 
door  down,  and   a  violent  ring;  but  I 
beard  nothing  before  that." 
"  Bah !" 

"Very  good,  sir." 

The  four  oflScers  who  were  with  Bay- 
ley,  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  imper- 
turbable coolness  of  Blake;  and  Bayley, 
after  regarding  him  now  for  a  few  min- 
nteg  in  silence,  said — 
"  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 


'•  About  an  hour,  sir." 

"  Liar  !  you  were  seen  at  the  end  erf 
the  street  not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago." 

"  Oh,  yes."   V 

"  And  yet  you  say  you  have  been  here 
an  hour  ?" 

"  I  don't  deny  that  I  went  out  to  get 
A  drop  of  milk  to  take  with  my  bi-eakfast, 
as  I  had  got  it  all  nicely  and  snugly 
ready  before  it  struck  nine,  for  I  could 
not  take  it  without '' 

"  Oh,  iudeed.  And,  pray,  where  did 
you  prepare  this  nice  and  snug  breakfast, 
Mr.  Blake  ?" 

"  In  the  back  parlor,  sir." 

"  Indeed  !  We  shall  soon  see  wlieth- 
er  or  not  there  is  any  truth  in  that.  You 
ought  to  have  been  here  an  hour  and 
more  ago,  for  I  ^^ent  you  ;  but  by  the 
devil  I  doubt  you,  Mr.  Blake." 

"  Certainly,  sir.  ty  all  means." 

"  Curse  this  house,"  muttered  Bayley. 
"  and  all  that  were  ever  in  it.  It  is  an 
eye-sore  to  me.  and  every  time  I  come 
to  it  I  am  inclined  to  set  light  to  it,  but 
that  1  still  suspect  there  are  secrets  hid- 
den within  its  old  walls  that  I  want  to 
get  at.  Oh,  for  that  cedar  box  1  Hark 
you,  my  men  !" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Bayley,"  said  the  officers 
"  There  is  a  sm.iU  cedar  box,  contain 
ing  papers  that  I  want  very  particular 
ly  ;  I  have  some  reason  to  believe  that 
it  is  still  hidden  in  this  house  somewhere, 
notwithstanding  the  search  I  have  al 
ready  made  in  it,  and  I  hear  offer  a  hun- 
dred pound  note  for  it  if  any  of  you  can 
fir*d  it.  Don't  let  a  hole  or  corner  es- 
c  .pe  you,  and  I  will  wait  for  you  in  this 
room  " 


CHAPTER  III 

ANOTHER  DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Blaxe  knew  as  well  as  possible,  ay. 
as  well  as  if  Peter  Bayley  had  whispered 


10 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


the  fact  into  his  ear,  that  he  wag  mis- 
trusted, and  that,  although  Bayley  had 
a  notion  that  he  was  a  man  of  ability, 
that  he  would  not  scruple  for  a  moment 
to  put  him  to  death,  as  there  was  erery 
•■eason  to  believe  he  had  done  to  others. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  be- 
low, Fred  and  the  two  girls  had  ascend- 
ed to  the  roof  where  they  escaped  the 
prying  eyes  of  Peter  Bayley  and  his 
officers  who.  after  searching  every  spot 
in  the  old  mansion,  took  their  depar- 
ture with  much  grumbling  and  awful 
swearing  on  the  part  of  Peter  Bayley. 
As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  Fred  de- 
scended from  the  roof  with  the  girls, 
and  while  the  latter  remained  under  the 
protection  of  iilake,  the  former  repaired 
to  the  cellar. 

After  groping  hia  way  some  minutes 
In  this  damp  and  mouldy  region,  he  came 
to  a  spot  in  one  corner  upon  which  lay 
a  small  flat  stone,  having  removed  which, 
he  began  to  dig  up  the  earth  with  a  rusty 
case  knif«  which  ha  found  near  the  spot. 
After  a  time,  the  knife  struck  against 
ijomething  hard,  and  then  laying  down 
the  knife,  he  used  his  fingers  to  renwve 
the  loose  earth. 

In  another  minute,  he  drew  from  the 
mouldy  soil  a  small  box,  at  which  he 
evinced  great  joy.  He  exclaimed  with 
delight,  as  he  felt  the  box — "  it's  here, 
and  I  live  and  breathe  again.  All's 
right.  I  must  have  buried  it  deeper 
than  I  thought,  or  it  has  worked  down 
through  the  damp  ground  of  its  own  ac- 
cord. Never  mind,  so  long  as  I  have  it." 

With   the   precious  box for   Fred 

could  not  but  believe  that  it  was  precious 
in  some  way — clutched  to  his  breast,  he 
began  to  ascend  the  stairs.  He  heard 
the  rats  screaming  in  hideous  chorus, 
and  far  off  in  the  obscurity  of  the  cel- 
lar he  now  saw  some  hundreds  of  their 
eyes  glaring  at  him.  They  seemed  to 
have  oollerted  in  force,  as  though  they 


had  really,  as  those  creatures  will  do  at 
times,  met  to  attack  him,  and  try  to  over- 
power him  by  numbers. 

"  Take  that,"  said  Fred  as  he  threvf 
the  still  red-hot  stick  among  them,  and 
then  the  scampering  that  ensued,  and 
the  squeaking,  convinced  him  that  it 
had  gone  among  a  mob  of  them." 

In  another  moment,  Fred  was  in  the 
passage. 

"  I  have  it — I  have  it !"  he  cried. 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  said  Jane. 

"  And  so  say  I,"  cried  Blake.  ''  Let 
us  leave  this  place." 

Fred  placed  Jane's  arm  within  his 
own,  and  smiling  upon  her,  he  said — 

"  Dear  Jane,  you  shall  not  now  for  an- 
other moment  be  exposed  to  the  terrors 
of  this  house.  I  know  that  to  you  they 
must  be  very  great  and  serious;  but 
come  away,  dear  one,  and  never  mind 
the  past.  I  have  a  hope  that  in  this 
mysterious  little  box  is  contained  infor- 
mation of  the  greatest  importance.  Open 
the  door,  Blake." 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Blake. 

The  street  door  was  opened,  and  out 
they  all  four  sallied  into  the  street. — 
Fred  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turning  to  the  right,  he  said, 

'*  Let  us  go  thij  way  at  once.  It 
don't  matter  whether  we  go  east,  west, 
north  or  south,  so  that  we  get  away  from 
this  place,  and  leave  as  great  a  distance 
between  us  and  Peter  Bayley  as  possible.' 

"  That  is  it,"  said  Blake.  "  We  have 
only  that  man  to  dread  in  all  the  world. 
Oh,  would  that  he  were  no  more.  They 
do  say  that  he  has  sold  himself  to  the 
devil,  and  has  a  charmed  life." 

"Stuff!"  said  Pred.  If  Peter  had 
sold  himself  to  old  Nick  he  would  have 
made  a  better  bargain  than  he  has  ;  and. 
besides,  you  don't  suppose  that  the  devil 
would  be  so  stupid  as  to  buy  any  one 
that,  in  the  regular  course  of  nature,  h« 
would  be  sure  to  have  for  nothing  ?" 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


11 


"  Fred,**  said  Jane,  as  she  pressed  bis 
arm,  '^  I  d^n't  like  to  hear  you  talk  in 
that  strain.'' 

"  Then  I  won't." 

"  You  will  oblige  me  very  much,  in 
deed,  by  so  doing,  Fred.  It  may  be  pre- 
judice in  me,  but  I  dislike  levity  upon 
anything  that  has  a  tendency  to  produce 
thoughts  of  an  hereafter." 

"  That  8  a  capital  sermon,''  said  Fred, 
laughing,  '"  and  I  stand  convicted  ac- 
cordingly. On — on.  Let  us  get  out  of 
breath  the  first  mile,  and  then  we  can  go 
as  easy  as  you  all  like." 

To  tell  the  truth,  they  none  of  them 
wanted  much  urging  to  get  out  of  the 
neighborhood  of  that  dismal  old  house. 

"  I  wish  I  had  set  fire  to  the  old  house, 
Jane." 

•'  Oh,  no— no  I" 

"Why  not?" 

"There  are  neijrhboura,  you  know, 
Fred  and  they  might  have  suffered." 

There  is  no  knowing  what  sort  of  dis- 
closure Fearless  Fred's  modesty  might 
have  induced  him  to  make,  but  he  was 
cut  short  in  his  reply  by  seeing  a  lady 
on  horseback  approachiog,  followed  by 
a  groom  in  very  rich  livery,  indeed.  The 
lady  was  passing  on,  but  at  the  eight  of 
Jane,  she  uttered  an  exclamation,  which 
induced  her  to  look  round,  and  then  she 
seemed  to  be  quite  as  much  struck  by 
the  appearance  of  Jane  as  Jane  had  been 
at  her. 

''  Good  Heavens  !"  cried  the  lady. 
>■  It  is " 

She  was  evidently  upon  the  point  of 
pronouncing  some  name,  but  prudence 
restrained  it  upon  her  lips.  She  rode 
up  to  Fred  and  Jane,  and  in  a  voice,  the 
agitation  of  which  was  so  great  that  she 
could  hardly  speak  articulately,  she  said, 
or  rather  tried  to  say — 

•'Who  are  you,  young  man,  and  what 
ao  you  do  in  the  society  of  this  girl, 
wbtse  protector  I  am?" 


"  Oh,  no,  no  !''  said  Jan«.  "  Fred, 
this  is  the  countess  who  so  cruelly  per- 
secuted me,  and  from  whom  you  rescued 
me." 

'•  Girl,  girl !''  cried  the  countess,  fot 
it  was,  indeed  that  rather  unscrupulous 
personage.  "Girl,  what  do  you  mean? 
Nothing  but  ignorance  can  induce  you 
to  speak  in  such  a  strain.  Come  with 
me  this  moment.  I  tell  you  now,  once 
and  for  all,  that  I  have  a  right  to  com- 
mand you." 

"  Jane,"  said  Fred,  with  all  the  oool- 
ness  in  the  world,  "  are  you  sure  of  the 
identity  of  this  woman  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !"  said  Jane.  "  I  know 
her  too  well." 

"  Who  is  it  that  dares  to  address  such 
language  to  me?''  cried  the  countess. 
"  Woman,  indeed !" 

"  Madam,"  said  Fred,  "  I  really  beg 
your  pardon  if  you  are  not  a  woman. 
To  be  sure,  your  conduct  towards  this 
young  girl  was  anything  but  womanly  ; 
but  I  am  very  glad  to  have   met  you." 

"  Indeed, rascal !  and  what  fori" 

"Because  I  shall  hold  you  fast  till  I 
can  give  you  into  the  custody  of  the  po- 
lice, on  a  charge  of  stealing  this  girl  from 
her  home,  and  tempting  her  to  commit  a 
serioui  offence  against  the  law." 

Fred  laid  hold  of  the  horse  by  the  bit 
as  he  spoke,  and  for  a  moment  or  two 
her  Ladyship  was  evidently  too  much 
amazed  and  enraged  to  reply  to  him. 
Then  she  struck  him  with  her  riding 
whip,  upon  which  Fred  snatched  it  from 
her  hands  and  broke  it  in  two,  casting 
the  fragments  to  the  ground. 

"  I  believe  you  are  a  woman,"  ho  said, 
"  although  you  deny  it;  but  if  I  had  be- 
lieved you  were  not,  I  would  have  ram- 
med that  riding  whip  down  your  throat.'' 

"Insolent  wretch  I  William — Wil- 
liam, I  say  !  Where's  my  groom  J 
Where  is  William?'' 


19 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


"  Oh,"  said  H  ake,  "  be*B  all  right,  my 
Udy." 

Upon  this,  Fred  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  Blake's  voice  came  from. 
and  he  saw  that  he  was  pointing  a  pistol 
at  the  head  of  the  groom,  whose  hat  had 
fallen  oflf,  and  whose  hair  was  standing 
on  end  with  terror,  lest  he  should  he 
shot. 

"  William  ^'  cried  the  countess,  "  are 
you  going  to  see  me  stopped  and  mal- 
treated and  robbed  on  the  highway,  and 
do  nothing  ?" 

"  Beg  pardon,  my  lady,"  said  William. 
"  but  this  gentleman  with  the  long  pistol 
Bays  as  he  will  blow  my  head  off  if  I  come 
to  you  or  make  any  alarm  ;  and  as  it  is 
the  only  head  I've  got,  my  lady,  I  would 
rather  be  a  little  careful  of  it,  you  see, 
my  lady." 

"  Cowardly  rascal !" 

"  Ah,  that's  all  very  well,  my  lady, 
bat  a  pistol  is  a  pistol.  Them  as  lives 
to  run  away — fights  and  lives  another 
day.  That  ain't  quite  the  right  words, 
but  they  lets  you  know,  my  lady,  what  I 
means." 

"  Now,  mjidam,"  said  Fred,  as  he  let 
go  the  countess'  bridle.  Now,  madam, 
if  you  were  to  live  to  the  age  of  the  pa- 
triarchs, and  if  you  were  to  paint  an  inch 
thick,  I  should  know  you  again ;  eo  you 
may  go." 

"  Jane  !''  cried  the  countess,  "  I  com- 
mand you  to  come  with  me." 

"I  have  no  reason  to  obey  you, count- 
ess," s^id  Jane.  "  I  do  not  know  you 
but  &s  the  female  who  persecuted  me, 
and  who  played  the  part  of  my  jailor. 
I  despise  and  defy  you  !" 

"Bravo!"  said  Blake.     "Fred!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Come  closer  to  me.  I  want  to  Bay 
BOmething  to  you,  if  you  please." 

"  Fred  stepped  up  close  to  Blake,  who 
whispered  in  his  car — 

"  Tho  horses,  Fred  — would  they  not 


be  handy?  They  are  good  ones;  be 
sides,  as  a  general  thing,  it  isn't  wise  t« 
leave  your  foes  mounted  and  yourself  on 
foot." 

"  True — true.  I  did  not  think  of 
that." 

'•  Well,  it  is  worth  thinking  of.  We 
can  carry  off  both  the  girls,  you  know 
You  can  take  charge  of  Miss  Jane,  and 
I  of  the  other." 

"  It  shall  be  done.  You  get  posses- 
sion of  the  groom's  horse,  and  I  will  take 
the  countess's." 

"  Good." 

Blake  had  no  difficulty  with  the 
groom,  for  he  was  so  thoroughly  fright- 
ened, that  if  he  had  been  ordered  to 
stand  on  his  head,  he  would  at  all  events 
have  made  the  attempt ;  nor  did  Fred 
meet  with  much  difficulty  from  the 
countess,  for  suddenly  laying  hold  of  her, 
he  had  her  off  the  horse  in  a  minute, 
notwithstanding  her  cries  for  help. 

"  Hold  the  horse's  head,  Jane,"  cried 
Fred,  for  the  countess  would  not  let  go 
of  him,  and  began  to  use  her  nails,  with 
rather  more  freedom  than  was  at  all 
pleasant,  upon  his  face. 

"  Confound  you  !"  said  Fred.  '•  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  you,  but  you  had  bet- 
ter be  quiet.  You  won't  ?  Go  there, 
then,  and  I  advise  you  not  to  stir,  or 
plump  you  will  go  into  a  ditch." 

By  an  effort  of  strength  that  was  al- 
most too  much  for  him,  Fred  lifted  the 
countess  to  the  height  of  a  very  broad- 
topped  thorn-hedge  that  was  by  the  side 
of  the  road,  and  fairly  laid  her  on  her 
back  on  the  top  of  it.  Her  weight  made 
her  sink  down  a  little,  so  that  she  was 
incapable  of  helping  herself  in  the  least, 
and  with  only  tho  liberty  of  squalling 
to  any  extent. 

"  Stop  her  bawling,"  cried  Blake. 

«  I  can't  do  that,"  said  Fred.  "  Let 
us  be  off  out  of  car-shot  of  it,  and  then 
wc  shall  be  rid  of  it." 


FEARLESS   FRED 


!» 


Jane  wa8  moimted  upon  the  count- 
ess's horse  by  Fred  ,  vrho  sprang  up  be- 
hind her,  and  Blake  took  care  of  the 
young  girl,  so  that  they  set  off  at  a  capi- 
tal pace  into  the  country,  leaving  her 
ladyship  and  the  groom  lamenting. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FRED  IS  OUTGENERALED  FOR  ONCE  IN 
A  WAY. 

Such  a  chance  as  this  which  had  be- 
fallen Fred  and  his  friends  was  hardly 
to  have  been  looked  for,  and,  indeed,  the 
whole  affair  had  been  so  bewilderingly 
rapid,  that  Jane  could  hardly  take  upon 
herself  to  say  wh^t  had  happened,  ere 
she  was  galloped  off  at  a  rate  that  was 
enough  to  take  her  breath  away. 

"Oh,  Fred— Fred,"  she  said,"  would 
it  not  have  been  better  to  let  that  wo- 
man go  as  we  met  with  her?" 

"  Certainly  not,  my  dear  Jane.  You 
may  depend  that  she  and  her  groom 
would  only  have  ridden  no  far  till  they 
had  met  with  some  assistance,  and  then 
we  should  have  had  them  after  us." 

They  had  taken  a  road  which  led  them 
towards  Stamford  Hill,  and  as  he  went 
on,  Fred  began  to  ask  himself  what  was 
to  become  of  Jane. 

A  more  painful  question  than  that 
he  could  not  conceive,  for  he  felt  that  it 
would  be  an  iniquitous  thing  of  him  to 
keep  her  with  him ;  and  yet  how  to  dis- 
pose of  her  troubled  him  much. 

"  Jane,"  he  said. 

«  Yes,  Fre  1." 

"  I  am  thinking  that  yon  ought  to  be 
placed  in  some  home  where  you  would 
be  free  from  all  the  terrors  that  beset 
my  mode  of  life.** 

Jane  began  to  cry. 

**  Nay,  now,"  said  Fred,  "  I——" 

•* Fred— Fred!"  cried  Blake,  at  this 


moment,  "  we  are  pursued,  Look  oyer 
the  hedge  to  your  left,  aiwi  tell  me  wha* 
you  see  in  the  fields  yonder." 

Fred  did  look,  and  he  saw  a  party  of 
eight  men  on  horseback,  coming  along  at 
a  good  pace.  The  dress  and  the  general 
appearance  of  these  men  were  quite  suf- 
ficient to  fix  them  as  officers  of  the  po- 
lice. 

'  Nabbed,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Fred. 

'  Oh,  no — no  !''  cried  Jane. 

"  A  stern  chase,  you  know,  Fred,"  said 
Blake,  "  is  a  long  chase." 

"Speak.  Fred,"  said  Jane;  "wnat 
would  you  have  me  do  ?" 

"  In  plain  language,  then,"  said  Fred, 
"  if  I  am  taken,  ic  will  be  half  of  it  owing 
to  my  anxiety  concerning  you,  Jane, 
preventing  me  from  taking  those  meas- 
ures to  save  myself,  which  otherwise 
might  be  afforded.  Do  you  understand 
me?     I  would  have  you  leave  me." 

'i  Fred,  where  am  I  to  go  ?" 

"Trust  to  Blake.  Take  this  money 
Now,  don't  cry.  Take  this  little  cedai 
box,  too,  and  guard  it  with  your  life.  It 
may  be  that  this  is  the  second  time  that 
I  have  had  it  in  my  possession,  and  yet 
have  been  unable  to  look  at  it.  It  is 
rather  strange  and  provoking  that  it 
should  be  so,  for  uU  that." 

"  No— no  !" 

"  Yes,  Jane.  Do  not  let  me  hear  yon 
say  no.  There  is  a  cluster  of  cottages 
in  front  of  us.  Stop,  there,  and  all  three 
of  you  go  into  one  of  them  and  ask  for 
a  little  rest.     I  will  ride  on." 

"  But  how  shall  we  meet  again  ?" 

"If  I  escape,  I  will  be  to-night,  at 
the  hour  of  twelve,  at  Tottenham  Cross. 
Blukc  will  know  the  place  will  enough  ; 
but  if  I  am  not  there  at  the  time,  you 
may  depend  that  something  has  hap- 
pened." 

"  Oh,  Fred,  you  had  better  kill  me. 

"  Had  I  though  ?  I  am  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent opinion,  and  when  I  tell  you  that 


14 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


I  think  my  chatices  of  escape  depend 
upon  your  obeying  my  instructions  in 
this  matter,  I  don't  think  you  ought  to 
hestate." 

After  this  sort  of  appeal  to  her,  what 
could  Jane  say?  It  was  quite  impossi- 
ble that  she  could  resit  it.  If  she  did. 
she  must  cither  say  that  she  set  up  her 
own  judgment  in  opposition  to  Fred's. 
and  that  she  did  not  believe  that  he  run 
more  risk  with  her  than  without  her,  or 
she  must  say  that  she  was  indifferent  to 
that  fact. 

It  was  not  likely  that  the  gentle  and 
aflFectionate  girl  would  embrace  either  of 
these  propositions,  so  she  said,  at  once — 

"  Fred,  be  it  as  you  will." 

"  That  is  right,  Jane 

They  were  within  a  hundred  yards 
jr  so  of  a  very  pretty  little  cottage, 
the  garden  of  which  was  laid  out  with  ex- 
ceeding taste  and  neatness.  It  was  there 
that  Fred  wished  Jane  to  go.  • 

"  But  do  you  think  they  will  be  kind 
enough  to  allow  us  to  wait  there  ?"  said 
Jane,  mournfully. 

"  I  know,  they  are  a  good  sort  of  peo- 
ple." 

"  You  know  it,  Fred.  ?  How  is  that  ?" 

"  Why,  look  at  that  cat  there  on  the 
lawn,  sitting  upon  a  little  square  piece  of 
carpet  that  ?he  seems  quite  to  think  her 
own.  They  would  not  be  indulgent  to 
that  creature  if  they  had  not  hearts, 
those  people.  You  may  lay  it  down  as 
a  rule.  Jano,  that  folks  who  love  ani- 
mals arc  of  the  kind  and  considerate  or- 
der, and  they  are  pretty  sure  not  to  dis- 
appoint you." 

"  I  believe  it,  Fred  ." 

Blake  looked  very  sorry  to  leave 
Fred,  and  so  he  was,  too ;  but  still  he 
felt  the  truth  of  what  Fred,  said  in  its 
fullest  extent,  and  he  said  not  a  word, 
although  he  shook  hands  with  him  and 
«««iQed  deeply  touched 


"  Courage,''  said  Fred. 

In  another  moment  Fred  had  the 
spare  horse  by  the  bridle,  for  he  meant 
to  take  it  with  him,  in  order  that  by  its 
proximity  to  the  cottage  it  might  not 
lead  his  pursuers  to  think  that  it  was 
there  Jane  had  taken  refuge,  and  off  he 
went, 

The  horse  he  rode  himself  was  of 
course  now  better  able  to  make  speed,  for 
it  was  lightened  by  Jane,  who,  althoogh 
no  great  weight,  was  still  something 
extra  on  a  horse,s  back,  so  that  he  was 
enabled  to  goat  a  gallop. 

Fred's  object  was,  the  moment  be  got 
to  any  lane,  to  let  the  other  horse  go,  and 
so  get  rid  of  it ;  and  he  was  not  many 
minutes  looking  for  such  an  opportu- 
nity before  one  presented  itself  to  him, 
and  he  started  the  riderless  horse  off,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  it  go  at  a 
canter  right  down  the  lane. 

"  That  is  all  just  as  it  should  be  ;  and 
now,"  said  Fred,  "  catch  who  may — 
catch  who  can.  I  will  lead  you  a  race  for 
it   at  all  events." 

«  Hilloa''*   shouted  a  voice,"  hilloa!" 

Fred  did  not  slacken  his  speed,  but 
he  turned  half  round  in  his  saddle,  and 
to  his  surprise  he  saw  his  pursuers  a 
good  deal  nearer  to  him  than  he  had  ex- 
pected they  could  possibly  be.  It  was 
quite  clear  that  they  had  reached  the 
high  road  by  some  near  cut  across  the 
fields. 

"  The  devil !"  said  Fred.,  "  here  thej 
are." 

"  Hilloa  !"  cried  the  voice  agam. 
"  Pull  up,  or  we  will  fire  at  you — pull 
up.     Hilloa !" 

"  Fire  away  !"  said  Fred,  and  he  urg- 
ed the  horse  on  at  increased  speed,  and 
with  his  light  weight  the  powerful  crea- 
ture was  able  to  get  on  tremendously. 
Bang !  went  a  pistol  from  the  men  ia 
front,  but  it  did  no  harm,  and  the  pro- 


15 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


bability  is,  that  tbey  only  intended  to 
frighten  him  by  it,  so  as  to  induce  him 
to  stop.  They  did  not  know  exactly, 
though,  the  sort  of  person  they  had  to 
deal  with.  Fred  was  not  of  that  order 
of  beings  tbat  are  easily  frightened. 

"  Hold  hard  !"  cried  the  voice  again. 

"  On — on  !''  was  all  Fred  said  and  on 
indeed  he  went  at  a  rattling  pace  ;  but 
DOW  a  new  danger  came  within  sight. 
He  saw  one  of  those  nuisances  in  the 
shape  of  toll-bars  across  the  road.  The 
man  who  presided  at  it  evidently  guessed 
that  there  was  something  amiss  on  the 
road,  for  he  rushed  out  of  his  little  cot- 
tage and  shut  the  gate. 

•'  I'll  remember  you  for  that  another 
time,"  thought  Fred. 

A  half  minuto  more  and  Fred  reach- 
ed the  gate,  and  over  went  the  horse  as 
if  it  had  had  wings. 

"  Murder  !"  said  the  man.  ''  Stop 
him  I     It's  three-pence." 

"  I'll  call  and  pay  you,"  said  Fred. 

Off  he  was  again,  but  the  gate  was  an 
obstacle  to  the  pursuers,  who  were  not 
BO  well  mounted,  or  not  so  reckless  as  to 
what  leaps  they  took,  for  they  all  stop- 
ped till  the  man  opened  the  gate  again, 
and  his  fright  made  him  bungle  so  over 
doing  it,  that  he  delayed  them  nearly  a 
minute. 

'•  You  idiot !"  cried  one  of  the  officers, 
"  if  you  had  let  the  gate  be  we  should 
have  had  him  by  now." 

"  But  my  three-pence,  gentlemen — 
you  know  it's  threepence.  Lock  at  the 
board  with  the  list  of  tolls,  if  you  please." 

"  Go  to  the  devil !" 

"  Why,  this  is  what  you  call  a  general 
bilk,"  said  the  tollman.  "  I  have  been 
forced  to  let  one  fellow  over  the  gate, 
and  eight  men  through  it,  and  1  haven't 
got  a  penny  piece  from  any  of  them. 
Ob,  what  a  bilk  !" 

Fred  had  got  considerably  the  start 
•f  his  pursuers  now,  and  really  began  to 


think  that  there  was  a  prospect  of  hi« 
escaping,  when  by  the  manner  in  whicb  • 
the  horse  began  to  go,  he  made  the  very 
uncomfortable  discovery  that  he  had 
turned  lame.  This  was  a  circumstance 
that  would  have  made  any  one  else  give 
up  all  hopes  almost,  but  it  had  not  that 
effect  upon  Fred,  who  was  very  far  from 
belonging  to  the  despairing  class  of  hu- 
man beings. 

On  the  contrary,  anything  that  hap- 
pened to  him  of  a  very  cross  and  per- 
verse character,  only  had  the  effect  oi 
stimulating  his  intentions. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?''  ho  said. 
"  Why,  I  must  forsake  the  hor6e,  I  sup 
pose.  He  must  have  hit  his  heel  ogainst 
the  top  of  that  infernal  toll-gate,  and 
go  is  lame  through  it.  I  have  promised 
to  call  again  and  pay  that  man,  and  won*t 
I,  that's  all  !" 

To  keep  the  high  road  now,  and  to 
lose  ground  every  minute,  was  not  exact- 
ly the  wisest  thing  he  could  do,  so  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  turn  from  it  at  the 
first  opportunity  that  he  possibly  could; 
and  seeing  a  lane  to  his  right,  he  made 
a  dash  round  the  corner  of  it,  and  down 
went  the  horse  on  his  knees. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  but  thai  the 
creature  had  kept  up  as  long  as  he  possi- 
bly could. 

Fred  was  thrown  over  its  head  very 
comfortably  on  the  margin  of  a  dung- 
heap,  but  he  did  not  get  hurt  in  the 
least,  and  was  upon  his  feet  in  a  minute. 

Fred  ran  dewn  the  lane  a  little  way, 
until  through  the  hedge  he  saw  a  pretty 
garden,  in  which,  close  to  the  hedge, 
there  was  a  quantity  of  scarlet  beans 
growing  with  great  luxuriance.  He 
heard  the  clatter  of  the  horse's  feet  of 
his  pursuers.  There  was  no  time  to 
choose  what  he  should  do,  so  he  con- 
trived to  push  his  way  through  a  gap  in 
the  hedge  into  the  garden. 

The  little  garden  adjoined  a  cottaga 


(6 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


that  he  could  just  see  through  the  boughs 
of  the  fruit  trees  and  over  the  tops  of 
the  beans  and  peas  with  which  it  was 
well  stacked.  Fred  threw  himself  flat 
to  the  ground  between  two  rows  of  peas, 
and  then  he  heard  the  horsemen  gallop 
past. 

"  Saved  !"  he  said,  as  he  got  op. 

Just  as  he  spoke  he  heard  the  voice  of 
a  young  girl  in  conversation  with  some 
one,  and  he  crouched  down  again. 

"  I  don't  believe  that  he  loves  me," 
said  the  girl.  "  If  he  did,  he  could  not 
behave  as  he  does  ;  and,  at  all  events,  as 
I  don't  love  him,  it  makes  no  diflference, 
and  I  will  not  see  him." 

"  Uut,  Mary,"  said  another  voice, 
which  seemed  that  of  an  elderly  woman, 
"  I  tell  you  that  he  is  a  very  nice  young 
man,  and  that  his  uncle  is  rich,  and  that 
yoa  will  ride  in  your  own  coach." 

"  I  don't  like  coaches,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Money  !''  said  the  girl,  when  she  was 
alone.  "  My  aunt  thinks  of  nothing 
but  money,  and  the  possession  of  that 
makes  a  lady,  she  thinks. ' 

"She  is  quite  wrong,"  said  Fred,  look- 
ing up.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,  Mary.  I 
would  not  harm  you  for  the  world." 

"  Oh,  who  are  you  ?"  said  the  girl, 
suppressing  her  tendency  to  scream  for 
aid. 

"  A  hunted  hare,"  said  Fred.  "  Don't 
you  hear  the  hounds  ?" 

CHAPTER  V. 

PRED     MAKES    AN    APPEARANCE    IN    NEW- 
GATE. 

It  must  have  been  the  cheerful  and 
kind  tone  in  which  Fearless  Fred  spoke, 
that  assured  the  young  girl  that  there 
was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended  from 
him;  but  she  was  rather  puzzled  at  the 
odd  manner  inwhich  he  thought  proper 
to  let  her  know  that  he  was  pursued. 

The  girl  was  not  above  sixteen  years 


i  of  age,  and  she  was  very  b,eantiful.  Fred 
I  thought  he  bad  never   seen  such  eyes, 
I  that  had  in  them  such  a  world  of  ten- 
derness ;  but   there  was  a   delicacy  of 
complexion,  which,  seemed  to  speak  of 
fading  health. 

"  Oh,  tell  me,"  she  said,  "  who  and 
what  you  are  V 

''  I  am » 

Fred  stopped  short,  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  he  did  not  know  very  well  what 
to  call  himself  to  that  young  girl. 

"  Why  do  you  not  tell  me  who  you 
are  ?"  she  said. 

'Because  I  hardly  know,  and  that  a 
the  real  truth,"  said  Fred  in  his  plea- 
sant and  ingenous  way,  that  always  had 
such  a  charm  about  it. 

"  But  how  can  that  be  V '  said  the  girl 
"  Easily.     Nevertheless,  will    it   not 
suffice  if  I  tell  you  that  there  are  no  lese 
than  eight  men  on  eight  tailed  horses  in 
tent  upon  my  capture  or  my  destruction 
They  will  shoot  me  if  they  see  me,  and 
think  they  cannot  capture  me." 
"Is  that  possible?" 
"  It  is,  indeed.     Perhaps  I  deserve  it. 
but  yet  I  do  not  think  so,  for,  after  all. 
I  feel   as   though   I  had    been  hurried 
on,  by   circumstances  that    I  could  no* 
control,  to  do  things  the  laws  condemns 
I  think  you  will  save  me  if  you  can." 
"Oh  yes." 

"  Ah  !  I  knew  you  would." 
**  I  hope  you  are  not  very  wicked  ?'' 
"  Well,  I  don't  think  I  am ;  but  I  ana 
not  very  good,  you  may  be  sure." 
"Come  this  way." 

It  was,  indeed,  time  for  Fred  to  go 
some  way  or  other,  for  the  horsemen  had 
found  Fred's  horse,  and  not  finding  him, 
two  of  them  had  gone  on  for  the  full 
length  of  the  lane,  while  the  other  six 
came  back  to  see  if  he  were  hiding  any- 
where close  at  hand. 

The  beautiful  young  girl  trembled  very 
much  as  she  ran  along  a  little  pathway, 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


IT 


the  sides  of  whioh  were  adorned  with 
primroses,  and  then  opening  a  rough-look- 
ing door  at  the  end  of  it,  she  said — 

"  Go  in  there.  It  is  where  we  keep  the 
apples  and  other  fruits  that  we  want  to 
preserve." 

"Oh,  but  ihey  will  find  me  here." 
"  Not  if  jou  are  careful,  There  is 
another  door  at  the  back  of  this  little 
building,  and  if  you  hear  them  in  the 
front  here,  you  can  leave  it  that  way,  and 
then  come  back  again." 

*•  I  understand.  And  now,  how  can  I 
thank  you  ?'* 

"  Not  at  all.     I  am  afraid " 

•*  Of  what  ?'• 

"That  I  am  dcring  wrong." 
"  No.,  A  kind  action  can  never  be 
wrong,  Mary.  You  see,  I  know  your 
dear,  nice  name,  but  if  I  didn't,  I  should 
never  forget  you,  and  I  don't  know  why 
people  are  made  with  such  pretty  faces 
as  yours,  <  xcept.to  turn  the  whits  of  the 
rest  or  the  world.     Oh — " 

Mary  closed  the  door  upon  Fred,  cut- 
short  his  compliments  ;  so  that  he  was 
left  to  himself,  and  in  comparative  dark- 
ness, for  although  through  a  few  crevices 
there  did  come  little  pencils  of  light,  they 
were  not  sufficient  to  illuminate  the 
place  beyond  the  extent  of  a  dubious  kind 
of  light. 

"  What  a  smell  of  apples  there  is  here  !" 
said  Fred,  as  he  stretched  out  his  hand, 
and  secured  a  fine  one,  which  he  began 
eating. 

Fred  had  not  got  past  the  age  when 
he  oould  relish  an  apple  with  all  the  gusto 
of  youth. 

"Capital!"  said  Fred.  **I  feel  my- 
self very  much  refreshed  ;  and  if  it  were 
not  that  the  image  of  Jane  is  at  my  heart, 
I  should  take  it  into  my  head  that  this 
Mary  was  tlie  prettiest  and  gentlest  crea- 
ture in  all  the  world ;  but,  at  all  events, 
ihe  b  the  next  best,  bless  her!" 


Fred  thought,  then,  that  it   would  be 
just  as  well  to  examine  the  mode  of  exit 
at  the  back  of  the  apple  house,  and  h« 
found  that  it  was   a  small   door   on  the., 
latch,  which  opened  close  to  the  margin* 
of  a  little  pond,  upon  which  a   couple  of 
ducks  were  swimming. 
"  That  will  do,''  he  said. 
Any  reflections    or     suppositions     of 
Fred's  were  now  put  an  end  to  by  the 
actualities  around  him.   It  appeared  that 
the  officers  had  become  so  impressed  with 
the  belief  that   he  must  be  hiding  some- 
where in    the  lane,  or  immediately  con- 
tigous  to  it,  that  they  dismounted,  and 
leaving  their  horses  in  the  care  of  one  of 
their  number,  they  began  hunting  about 
the  bushes  at  a  great  rate. 

During  their  search  they  soon  oame 
upon  the  garden,  and  the  idea  struck 
them  at  once,  from  the  rather  dilapida- 
ted nature  of  the  hedge,  that  he  might 
have  made  his  way  through  it 
"  Here's  a  gap,"  cried  one. 
"  It's  too  small,"  said  another.  * 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  he  is  as  thin  as 
an  eel;  and,  besides,  the  hedge  can  easi- 
ly be  pushed  together  a  little  on  the  in- 
side, and  he  is  cunning  enough  for  that, 
I  take  it." 

"  No  doubt  about  his  cunning." 
"Very  well,    then.     You  all  of  you 
keep  a  watch   on  this   hedge,    while  we 
two  go  into  the  garden  by  the   house 
way." 

"  Very  good." 

Thus  was  it,  then,  that  two  of  th« 
officers  went  to  the  front  entrance  to  the 
cottage,  and  in  the  king's  name  demand- 
ed admittance.  Mary's  aunt  was  dread- 
fully alarmed ;  but  she  let  the  officers 
into  the  cottage,  and  thence  into  the  gar- 
den at  once. 

"  Oh,  gentlemen,**  she  said,  *'wh«  iak 
you  want?" 

"  A  bighwaymaB." 


)8 


FEARLESS    FRED 


"  Dear  me  !  but  tbere'a  wo  highway- 
man here,  I  assure  yon.  I  am  not  a 
highwayman,  nor  is  my  niece,  Mary." 

"We  don't  say  you  are,  ma'am;  but 
your  garden  has  not  a  very  good  hedge, 
&nd  we  suspect  that  the  person  we  are 
after  is  concealed  in  it." 

"  In  the  hedge  ?     Gracious  1" 

*'  No,  in  the  garden." 

Mary  stood  upon  the  little  grass-plot 
in  front  of  the  cottage  window  and  look- 
ed the  picture  of  fright.  Her  face  had 
turned  quite  white,  and  she  trembled  very 
much. 

"You  need'nt  be  afraid,  my  dear," 
said  one  of  the  officers.  "  We  don't  mean 
no  harm  to  you." 

"  No — no,  I  am  not  afraid." 

^That's  right.  But  you  look  as  if 
you  had  seen  a  ghost.  Xx^ij,  li^d  better 
go  iu-doors."  ,    ••. 

"  Why  ?" 

"Because,  you  see,  if  we  find  the 
young  spark  we  are  after,  there  may  be 
a  little  bit  of  a  disturbance,  for  he  is  one 
that  will  crow  and  fight  to  the  last,  I 
know." 

.  "But  how  cruel r 
.);'c«»;Whatis  cruel?" 

"  Of  you  all,  great  big  men  as  you  are, 
to  be  pursuing  such  a  mere  lad.'' 

*'  Ah  1  yo*  have  seen  him.  Do  you 
hear  that,  Jarvis  ?  This  girl  says  he  is 
only  a  mere  lad  " 

"  Does  she  so  1  That  is  capital  1  Now, 
my  dear,  all  you  have  to  do  is  just  to  say 
«|uietly  where  he  is,  and  all  will  be  right. 
By  George,  I  thought  he  was  here." 

Poor  Mary  was  ready  to  sink  through 
the  garden  with  remorse  and  terror  at 
what  she  had  said,  for  she  now  saw  in  a 
moment  after  the  words  had  passed  her 
'ips  what  a  testimony  they  had  to  strength- 
en their  suspicions  that  Fred  was  hidden 
in  the  garden.  u,>  /  ; 

"Oh,  no— no,*'  she  cried,  m  she  clasp- 


ed her  hands.  "  I  know  nothing,  indeefl, 
I  know  notljing.  I  did  not  say  I  knew 
anything,  did  I  ?" 

"  You  did,  though." 

"  Do  not  say  that.  Oh,  aunt,  what  did 
I  say  ?" 

"Come  on,"  cried  the  officer, 
as  he  drew  a  pistol  from  bis  pocket. 
*'  Come  on — we  shall  unearth  the  fox,  1 
rather  think,  pretty  soon  now.  This  way. 
Shoot  him,  so  as  to  disable  him  if  he 
should  resist  at  all." 

"  All's  right." 

Poor  Mary  uttered  a  cry  of  despair, 
and  sank  upon  her  knees  on  the  grass- 
plot.  She  had  really  wished  to  save 
Fred.  There  was  a  something  in  his 
looks  which  seemed  so  pitiable,  and  with- 
al so  frank  and  noble,  that  she  could  not 
believe  he  had  done  anything  so  very 
bad ;  but  now  she  found  that  by  her  own 
indiscretion  and  want  of  tact  she  had 
destroyed  him. 

And  yet  what  could  she  do  now? 
Nothing  but  pray  for  h,im,  and  that  she 
did  most  fervently. 

Fred  knew  nothing  of  all  this,  as  he 
was  at  a  distant  part  of  the  garden  ;  but 
if  he  had,  he  would  have  felt  no  indig- 
nation at  that  innocent  girl,  from  whose 
very  innocence  and  anxiety  to  do  him 
good  had  arisen  the  words  that  were  so 
much  against  him. 

Poor,  poor  Mary — and  poor  Fred,  too, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  we  may  say,  as  he 
with  all  his  faults,  is  to  be  pitiied. 

The  officers  had  a  sort  of  tact  in  search- 
ing the  garden,  although  they  would 
have  searched  a  house  better,  as  that 
was  a  thing  they  were  more  used  to  of 
the  two ;  but  still  they  did  their  work  I 
well,  and  they  soon  came  to  the  little 
apple  house. 

Fred  heard  them. 
^'^•■, "  Now  for  it,"  he  said.     I  suppose  my 
fate  hangs  upon  the  next  five  minutes.** 


FEARLESS   FRED 


19 


"  Htre'i  a  door,"  said  one  ©f  the  offi- 
iers. 

"  Fire  through  it,  then,  if  jou  can't 
open  it,"  said  the  other. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right;  it's  only  on  the 
latch." 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for  then,  el  ?" 

•'  Nothing — nothing,  I  only — that  is, 
nothing.'' 

The  fftct  was,  that  the  officer  knew  his 
danger,  and  that  if  Fred  happened  to  be 
on  the  other  side  of  that  door,  that  in  all 
true  likelihood  the  salute  that  he 
would  get  from  him  would  bo  a  couple 
of  bullets  in  his  head.  That  idea  was 
none  of  the  most  agreeable,  and  we  do 
not  at  all  wonder  at  the  officer  hesitating 
a  little.    . 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  relief 
that  he  called  out  when  ho  opened  the 
door — 

"  All's  right." 

«  Not  there  ?.' 

"  No  !'  said  the  other  one ;  "he  is 
not  there." 

"  What  door  is  that  at  the  back  ?" 

"Let's  open  it." 

"  Duece  take  your  curiosity,"  thought 
Fred,  and  he  tried  to  get  very  cautiously 
round  the  angle  of  the  apple  house,  but 
tia  foot  slipped  and  he  half  fell. 

"  Hilioa !''  cried  one  of  the  officers, 
"  I  hear  a  noise." 

"  Take  that,  then,"  said  Fred,  as  he 
fired  a  pistol  at  the  head  that  popped  out 
at  the  little  door. 

From  the  moment  that  Fred  found 
that  his  presence  in  the  garden  was  dis- 
covered, he  felt  that  there  was  no  possi- 
ble chance  for  escape,  and  the  shot  he 
had  fired  was  rather  from  impulse  than 
from  any  reflection  at  all 

"Has  ho  hit  you,  Ben?"  cried  the 
•ther  officer. 

*•  I  don't  know.'' 

"  That  will  do     Fearless  Fred    you 


are  our  prisoner.  We  i.re  two  to  one 
here,  and  there  are  four  more  of  us  in 
the  lane." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Fred.  " Answei 
me  one  question." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Are  you  Peter  Baylcy's  men  ?" 

"  We  arc  not.  We  come  from  Bow 
street.  My  name  is  Jarvis.  We  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Peter  Bayley." 

"Upon  what  charge  do  you  arrest  me, 
then?" 

"  Highway  robbery.  You  took  a  purse 
and  a  ring  from  a  gentleman  ne.ir  Hen- 
don.  Now  don't  be  a  fool,  J  ved ;  we 
don't  mean  to  take  your  liTo^  but  we 
must  do  our  duty." 

"  All's  right,"  said  Fred.  '■  Uyou  had 
been  Peter  Bayley's  men.  I  -(rould  have 
fought  with  you  to  the  lu/.  gasp  ;  but 
as  it  is,  I  give  myself  up  to  you,  feeling 
that  it  would  be  just  Auicide  to  resist 
you." 

"  You  have  done  a  sensible  thing, 
Fred." 

"  I  hope  80." 

Fred  walked  very  leisurely  through 
the  apple  house,  and  confronted  the  two 
officers,  to  whom  he  handed   hiu  pistols. 

"  You  ain't  hurt  ?"  he  said  to  the  one 
he  had  fired  at. 

"  No." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  Il  was  a  foolish 
and  stray  shot ;  but  wheu  one  has  a  pis- 
tol in  hand,  and  is  taken  by  surprise, 
you  know  it  is  apt  to  /jo  ofif." 

"  Just  so.  It's  all  in  the  way  of  busi- 
ness ;  only  I  wish  Urj  hat  and  wig  haa 
not  gone  into  the  duck-pond." 

»  So  do  I,"  said  Fred. 

At  this  moment  Mary  appeared,  and 
clasping  her  hands,  she  cried — 

«  Oh,  he  is  taken  !  They  will  kill 
him !     He  is  taken  !" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Fred.  «  It's  all 
right '' 


?0 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


"  But  you  are  hurt.      T  heard  fire- 

artna" 

"No.     Thank  the  fates  no  one  is  hurt;  i 

80  there  is  no  micbief  done  ;  and  as  for  ; 

i 
me,  don't  think  ever  again  that  you  saw  j 

me.     Forget  me,  Mary.     Our  acquaint- 1 

ance  began  tb.is  hour,  and  this  hour  let 

it  end." 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry  for  you." 

"  That  I  know ;  and  it's  some  consola- 
tion to  feel  that  there  is  one  kind  heart 
that  is  sorry  for  me." 

"  I  did  all  I  conld  to  save  you." 

"  Hush  !" 

"Oh  you  did,  did  you?"  said  one  of 
the  officers. 

"  Come  on,  now,"  said  the  other  offi- 
cer. 

"  Good-bye,''  said  Fred,  to  Mary,  and 
he  held  out  his  hand  to  her.  She  sprang 
towards  him,  and  placed  her  little  soft 
band  in  his. 

"  Can  you  forgive  me  ?"  she  said. 

"  Forgive  you  ?  How  ought  I  to 
thank  you  !  Hush  !  The  officers  are 
not  at  hand  now.  Let  me  whisper  to 
you.  Have  you  a  friend  who  will  do  a 
kind  thing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  cousin  Phillip," 

"  The  very  t!iing.     I " 

"  Now.  Fred ;  come  on.'' 

'•'  Let  hira  go  to  Tottenham  Cross  to- 
night at  twelve,  and  tell  those  whom  he 
will  Bfte  there  what  has  happened  to 
Fearless  Fred.  Do  you  comprehend 
ine?" 

«  I  do." 

The  officer  laid  his  hand  upon  Fred's 
arm. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you  have 
aaid  quite  enough  to  the  young  lady 
now,  Fred,  and  the  sooner  you  come 
with  me  the  better,  f  suppose  you  and 
ghe  are  old  acquaintances  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  I  never  saw  her  before 
to<iay,  and  shall   never  sec  her  again.*' 

"  Well,  that  is  your  look-out     She 


is  a  little  beauty  and  no  mistake.    Oome 
on." 

There  could  be  no  doubt  but  that  tLa 
officer  had  purposely  held  off  to  let  him 
say  a  few  words  to  Mary,  with  whom  be 
believed  that  he  was  well  acquainted, 
from  the  sympathy  she  showed  for  him. 

In  another  minute  they  were  outside 
the  garden  in  the  lane,  and  the  officers 
began  to  mount  their  horses.  The  two 
who  had  gone  up  the  lane  now  returned, 
and  they  were  agreeably  surprised  to 
find  that  Fearless  Fred  was  taken 

"  Why,  you  really  have  him  ?"  tbey 
cried. 

"  Yes,  all  is  right." 

They  mounted  Fred  behind  one  of 
them,  and  they  then  placed  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  and  put  the  handcuffs 
on  him  in  that  position,  so  that  his 
chances  of  escape  were  really  reduced  to 
something  very  small,  indeed ;  but  he 
did  not  contemplate  escaping  from  those 
six  men  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  watch 
him. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "if  you  can,  and 
do  your  duty  at  the  same  time,  how  came 
you  to  be  after  me  so  quick  ?" 

"  After  what  time  ?"  said  one. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Fred. 

"Well,  you  have  a  right  to  be  careful, 
Fred  ;  but  the  fact  is,  we  thought  you 
were  dead." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !'' 

"  Yes,  Peter  Bayley  gave  out  that  you 
were  drowned  in  the  river  Brent ;  but 
we  met  a  lady  in  the  road  who  told  us 
that  such  a  person  as  you,  and  she  de- 
scribed you  capitally,  had  taken  her 
horse  from  her.  We  recognis(^d  the  de- 
scription at  once,  and  though  we  wers 
going  on  other  business,  we  thought  we 
could  not  do  better  than  take  you." 

••  That  will  do,"  said  Fred.  «  Now, 
mind  you,  I  don't  care  a  straw  about 
this  arrest,  provided  you  don't  give  me 
up  to  Pftter  Bayley.  »* 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


tJ 


Jane  assailed 


We 


"  That  we  are  not  likely  to  do 
hate  the  sight  of  him  " 

"  So  do  I,  and  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  hang  him." 

"What?" 

"  I  say  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
hang  Peter  13ayley.  Don't  misunder 
•tand  me,  I  doa't  mean  to  harg  him  my- 
self, but  to  get  him  hanged,  in  due 
oourse  of  law.  for  his  crimes." 

•'  If  you  can  do  that  you  are  a  clever 
fftllow.  Fred  ;  but  you  forget  that  you 
are  in  rather  a  ticklish  position  yourself 
just  now.  Peter  Bayley  has  all  the  evi- 
dence against  you,  cut  and  dry.  in  two 
or  three  cases  of  highway  robbery." 

*♦  And  yet  I  shall  defeat  him.'* 

«  Well,  we  shall  see." 


by   rufBana. 

Fred  was  rather  rlad  than  otherwiw 
that  they  did  not  take  the  road  past  the 
cottages  near  Stamford  Hall,  where  Jana 
and  Bhike,  and  the  young  girl  who  had 
recently  joined  the  party,  were  residing, 
for  he  did  not  wish  to  give  Jane  the 
shock  of  seeing  him  taken  past  a  prison- 
er, although  he  hoped  that  Mary  at  the 
cottage  would  find  some  means  of  send- 
ing to  Tottenham  Cross,  and  so  making 
the  fcaiful  fact  known  to  her." 

At,  the  pace  the  officers  went,  LondoB 
was  very  soon  gained,  and  then  thoj 
held  a  consultation  with  each  other,  and 
finally  determined  upon  taking  Fred 
befora  Sir  John  Rose,  a  magistrate  who 
was  always  very  severe  against  del^il- 
quenta  of  his  descriptiom 


32 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


The  object  of  the  officers,  as  Fred 
gathered  from  tlieir  conversation,  was  to 
get  him  sent  to  Newgate,  for  they  did  not 
think  any  other  jail  sufficiently  safe  to 
hold  liim.  and  they  knew  that,  without 
an  order  from  a  magistrate,  the  authori- 
ties cf  Newgate  would  not  take  him  in, 
as  that  prison  was  for  offenders  commit- 
ted for  trial,  rather  than  for  those  who  had 
not  passed  through  that  formality, 

"  It  is  quitrf  a  compliment,"  said  Fred. 
"What  is  a  compliment?"  said  the 
officer  who  was  upon  the  horse  with  him 
"  Why,  your  wanting  to  take  me  to 
Newgate.  Don't  you  think  the  new 
prison  that  is  just  built  at  Clerkenwell 
sufficiently  strong?" 

•'No,  I  don't,  indeed.  The  governor 
thinks  more  of  his  garden  than  of  his 
prison,  and  there  has  been  two  escapes 
from  there  within  the  last  week." 

"  Weli,  then,  I  take  it  to  be  very  un- 
kind of  you,  for  you  might  as  well  have 
given  a  fellow  a  chance  of  getting  away, 
but  if  you  won't,  why,  you  won't,  that's 
all." 

Sir.  John  Roso  was  sitting  at  the  old 
court  in  Bow  Street,  and  in  the  course 
often  minutes  he  heard  enough  from 
the  officers  to  warrant  him  in  specially 
remanding  Fred  to  Newgate,  where  a 
ward  was  set  apart  for  such  specially  re- 
manded prisoners. 

"  You  are  young,  said  Sir  John  Ross. 
'•  but  I  regret  to  say,  that  I  consider  you 
to  be  a  notorious  criminal,  aud  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  you  will  be  hanged,  which 
will  be  a  very  good  thing  for  society  at 
large." 

'•  We  differ  very  much  in  opinion,  old 
pump,''  said  Fred. 

In  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  Fred 
was  in  the  lobby  of  Newgate.  A  chill 
eame  over  him,  as  he  heard  the  door 
rioted  behind  him 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FRED.    IN  NEWOATB 

We  regret  to  leave  Fred    in   »ueh 
situation,  but  we  are  compelled  to  do 
while  we  pay  just  a  little  attention  to 
Peter  Bayley,   and  his  manoeuvres  and 
operations. 

That  the  box  was  in  the  old  house 
somewhere  Bayley  still  believed,  and  it 
was  with  something  like  an  anticipation 
of  getting  it  that  he  made  his  way  to  the 
house  and  knocked. 

Peter  was  not  the  most  patient  of 
mortals,  and  when  he  found  that  no  one 
replied  to  his  knocking,  he  made  such 
an  appeal  to  the  door,  that  it  was  enough 
to  alarm  the  whole  neighborhood. 

Still  no  one  came. 

Peter  Bayley  then  indulged  himself 
in  a  few  rather  outrageous  oaths,  and  it 
is  to  be  supposed  that  they  eased  his? 
mind  a  little,  as  he  was  rather  more 
calm  after  them. 

"  The  villain  has  gone  to  sleep,"  he 
muttered  ;  "  but  I'll  awaken  him  with  a 
vengeance." 

Peter  then  began  upon  the  bell,  but 
with  no  better  effect  than  before ;  so  he 
took  from  his  pocket  a  skeleton  key,  with 
which  he  was  always  provided,  and  turn- 
ed the  lock  of  the  door.  It  yielded  in  a 
moment,  aud  Peter  walked  cautiously 
into  the  passage. 

The  naturally  suspicious  character  ol 
Peter  Bayley  made  him  always  dread 
mischief  to  himself  when  anything  of 
an  unusual  character  occurred  to  him  ; 
and  now  that  he  found  how  quiet  the 
house  was,  he  would  not  go  another  step 
until  he  had  got  a  pistol  in  each  hand, 
and  had  loosened  a  knife  in  its  sheath, 
which  he  wore  concealed  about  him. 

Then  Peter  stood  in  the  passage,  and 
called  out  loudly — 

"  Hilloa !  hilloa,  there  r 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


29 


The  dismal  echo  of  his  own  voice  up 
the  staircase  alone  replied  to  him. 

"  It  is  very  odd."  said  Uayley. 

He  remained  silent  now  for  some  few 
moments,  and  bent  Lis  head  down  to 
listen,  for  he  was  in  hopes  that  some 
slight  noise  in  the  house  might  yet  be  a 
guide  to  him,  in  case  any  one  should  be 
there. 

All  was  as  still  as  a  grave. 

"This  is  more  than  strange,"  added 
Bayley.  "  I  will  search  the  house  ;  but 
first,  I  will  provide  against  any  surprise 
by  the  entrance  to  the  house  of  any  one 
else." 

With  this  view,  Peter  put  up  the 
chain  at  the  back  of  the  street  door,  and 
shot  a  bolt  into  its  socket;  and  then 
with  his  pi.stols  still  in  his  hands,  he 
comraenccd  his  search  through  the  pre- 
tnisos.  ^ 

Bayley  proceeded  to  a  thorough  in- 
vestigation of  the  house  ;  but  that  afford- 
ed hira  no  clue,  and  he  returned  to  the 
parlor,  more  chagrined  and  enraged  than 
ever. 

"  What  can  I  do?  What  shall  I  do  ?" 
he  said.  '•  Baffled  at  every  hand — my 
horse  gone,  and  all  the  important  papers 
that  were  in  the  pocket  of  the  saddle — 
Jenkins  false  to  me — and  the  ccdarbox 
further  off  than  ever!     Curses!" 

Here  Peter  indulged  himself  in  a  few 
more  defamatory  expressions   touching 
oankind  in  general,  and  then  he  bound- 
id  out  of  the  house,  pulling  the  door 
.ehut  after  him  with  a  loud  noise. 

Wo  are  glad  enough  to  leave  Peter  '■ 
Bayley,  and  turn   to  a  consideration  of 
more  gentle  and  estimable  natures. 

We  allude  to  Jane  and  the  young  girl 
who  was  with  her,  and  likewise  to  Mary, 
the  little  beauty  of  the  lone  cottage  in 
the  lane,  where  Fearless  Fred  had  had 
the  evil  fortune  to  be  captured. 

When  Fred  rode  off  at  such  speed, 


after  leaving  his  dear  friends  at  a  cottags 
where  they  got,  after  al',  but  a^frosty 
kind  of  reception — for  the  family  were 
not  at  home,  and  an  old  sour-crabbed 
woman  was  only  minding  the  placo — 
they  thoui>;ht  that  he  would  be  able  to 
diatance  his  pursuers  and  come  back  to 
them  in  an  hour  or  so. 

Jane  pretended  to  be  very  much  in- 
disposed, in  order  to  have  an  excuse  to 
stay,  and  the  servant  could  not  very  well 
turn  her  out,  although  it  was  evident 
she  would  have  been  very  glad  to  do  so  ; 
but  when  two  hours  had  passed  away, 
and  no  Fred  came,  Blake  began  to  look 
rather  grave,  and  to  think  in  his  own 
mind  that  something  must  have  happen- 
ed to  Fred. 

"Alas!"  said  Jane,  in  an  under  tone, 
for  she  had  been  watching  the  counte- 
nance of  Blake,  "  alas  !  you  dread  the 
worst  ?" 

"  No  no  !     All  will  bo  well." 

"  And  yet  your  looks  tell  a  different 
tale.  You  think  that  Fred  is  laken,  or 
that  he  is  dead,  I  know  you  do." 

"  Hush  !  do  not  speak  so  loud,  I  beg 
of  you.  We  do  not  know  who  may  be 
listening.  Recollect  that  he  told  us  to 
meet  him  at  Tottenham  Cross  at  mid- 
night." 

"  Yes  yes !" 

"  Well,  from  that  I  gather  the  hope 
that  he  will  be  surely  there,  and  that  he 
may  not  think  it  prudent  to  come  back 
upon  this  road,  even  though  he  may  es- 
cape those  who  are  puisuiiig  him.  He 
is  much  more  likely  to  take  to  the  many 
green  lanes  that  lie  to  the  west  of  Tot- 
tenham, and  there  hide  until  the  night 
comes." 

"  Is  that  your  real  thought  ?" 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Miss  Jane." 

•^Then  I  will  not  despair  while  you, 
who  ought  to  know  these  things  »v  muob 


u 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


belter  than  I  can,  think  there  is  room  for 
hope." 

It  was  very  evident,  indeed,  that  if 
they  sought  ife  stay  where  they  were  un- 
tM  the  night  came,  they  would  out-sta)- 
their  wclcurae ;  so,  after  a  liitle  more 
consultation,  they  decided  'upon  giving 
up  all  idea  of  the  return  of  Fred  to  the 
cottage,  and  to  live  upon  the  hope  of 
meeting  him  at  Tottenh■^m  Cross,  to  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  which  they 
determined  to  repair. 

With  this  resolve  they  left  the  cottage, 
after  as  coldly  thanking  the  woman  as 
she  had  been  cold  to  them.  Tottenham 
was  by  no  means  far  distant  from  that 
spot.  They  had  but  to  proceed  d(jwn  a 
green  lane  to  find  themselves  in  the  High 
Street  of  that  long,  straggling  suburb  of 
the  mctropulis  ;  and  when  there,  they 
sought  for  the  quietest  looking  inn,  where 
tbey  put  up. 

Now,  all  this  time  Jane  had  possession 
of  the  cedar  box,  and  knowing  the  great 
store  that  Fred  set  by  it,  she  took  the 
greatest  care  of  it  that  could  be.  We 
will  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  had 
no  curiosity  regarding  its  contents,  for 
Jane  was  human  ;  and  yet  she  did  not 
think  herself  justified  in  opening  the  b^x 
without  the  presence  of  Frtd  A  kind 
of  superstitious  terror,  too,  clung  to  her 
as  she  look(  d  at  it,  and  she  seemed  tv 
dread  that  its  contents  would  be  produc- 
tite  to  her  of  more  pain  than  pleasure. 

*'  No,  no,"  she  gaid,  "  I  will  wait  until 
midnight,  and  then  I  shall  see  Fred,  and 
he  will  open  the  box." 

To  this  determination  Blake  offered  no 
objection.  The  behavior  of  this  man  now 
was  Su  different  to  what  one  could  at  all 
hare  expected  from  one  of  Peter  Bayiey's 
safcillites  that  it  might  well  strike  any  one 
whh  astonishment,  but  the  fact  was,  that 
the  nature  of  Blake  was  good,  and  now 
th»t  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 


goodnes.s,  and  gentleness,  and  beauty,  it 
altered  all  his  feelings. 

He,  though,  had  his  doubts  about  see- 
ing Fred  at  Tottenham  Cross  at  mid 
night. 

And  now,  after  long  and  weary  wait- 
ing, the  hour  had  nearly  come  when  Jan« 
and  her  friends  might  sally  forth  to  keep 
that  appointment  with  P>ed,  which,  alas  i 
he  was  so  compLtely  prevented  from 
keeping  with  her.  Little  did  she  suspect 
that  the  gloomy  walls  of  Newgate  enclos- 
ed him  at  that  time. 

The  night  wind  had  ri.scn  in  its 
strength,  and,  accompanied  ny  l)ia.stering 
echoes,  was  dashing  about  the  tops  of  the 
tall  trees.  Now  and  then,  too,  a  dash  of 
rain  came  through  the  air ;  and  afar  off 
there  was  that  continual  moaning  sound 
in  the  'air,  which  in  this  country  is  so 
«ure  an  indication  of  the  cominuance  of 
rough  weather. 

Jane  shrunk  as  she  faced  the  cold 
night  air,  but  Blake  eacouragt-d  her  to 
proceed,  and  shielded  her  us  well  as  he 
could  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weath 
er.  He  had  all  the  hope  in  the  worh 
that  Fred  miuht  be  there,  but  he  was 
quite  prepared  for  a  disappointment. 

Tdtienbam  Cross  stood  at  that  timeiu 
a  much  more  secluded  position  than  it 
does  now,  now  that  it  is  surrounded  by 
houses,  so  that  our  friends  could  approach 
the  spot  without  attracting  mucli,  if  any 
observation,  probably,  at  that  still  and 
solemn  hour — a  still  and  solemn  hour  in 
the  sweet  country,  although  in  Loudon 
at  that  time  all  the  jarring  elonrents  of 
drunkenness  aud  crime  are  let  h:08e  up- 
on the  face  of  society. 

"  He  will  surely  be  here,"  whisperea 
Jane. 

"Surely  if  he  can,"  said  Blake. 
•'  ]>ut  you  do  not  doubt?" 
"  How  can  I  doubt  of  a  thing  concern' 
ing  which  lean  know  nothing  at  allf 


^ 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


2d 


lie  said  we  were  to  meet  him  here ;  and 
setting  aside  the  reveraes,  accidents,  and 
circumstances  that  prevent  people  in  this 
world  t'ruin  doing  what  they  most  wish  to 
du,  ns-uredly  he  will  be  there." 

**  Oh,  yes  -  yes." 

The  t(»ue  in  which  Blake  had  spoken 
was  quite  sufficient  to  convince  Jane  that 
he  had  Some  doubts  upon  the  subject, 
and  she  felt  her  heart  sink  within  her  as 
they  all  neared  the  cross,  and  no  one 
came  forwird  from  it,  as  she  knew  that 
Fred  w  uld  have  come  to  meet  them. 

A  dozen  more  steps  and  they  stood  by 
the  cross.  All  was  still.  Jane  felt  as 
though  siie  could  have  fainted  upon  the 
spot 

•  Oh,  Fred,  Fred  !"  she  said,  "  where 
are  you  now  ?  Fred,  you  are  not  here, 
and  my  mind  sickens  at  the  thought  of 
what  may  be  the  cause  of  your  absence  '' 

"  Did  you  say  Fred  ?"  said  a  voice, 
and  at  thu  same  momenta  figure  emerg- 
ed from  behind  the  cross. 

"Oh,  speak  to  me — speak  to  me!" 
aried  Jane.  '•  Do  you  come  from  him  ?" 
"  "From  whol" 

•'  Lot  me  see  you  that  I  may  be  sure 
^ou  are  not  au  enemy.  Let  me  look  up- 
on your  face.  The  lantern,  Blake,  the 
Jauteru.'' 

Blake  had  a  small  hand-lantern  with 
him,  wliich  up  to  this  time  he  had  kept 
iilirouded  ;  but  now  he  let  a  gleam  of 
light  escape  from  it,  and  it  fell  upon  the 
ingenuous  and  pleasant  looking  face  of  a 
boy  about  sixteen  years  of  age. 

•'  My  name  is  Philip,"  he  said. 

'•  But  who  are  you?  How  came  you 
here  V     Do  you  come  from  Fred  ?" 

'•  No,''  said  the  boy, "  it  was  my  cousin 
Mary  who  told  me  to  come  here,  and  I 
always  do  what  she  tells  me.  She  said 
I  .should  meet  some  people  here,  to  whom 
T  wa.s  to  say,  that  Fearless  Fred  was  a 
priioner.'* 


"  Oh,  God  !"  said  Jane,  au  1  she  would 
have  fallea,  but  that  Blake  supported 
her.  She  had  dreaded  and  fully  expect- 
ed such  intelligence  as  the  lad  brought 
to  her  ;  but  still  the  realization  of  it  vmsi 
beyond  her  power  to  sustain  with  any- 
thing like  firmness  and  composure. 

'•  They  have  killed  him  ! '  she  said. 
"  Oh,  they  have  killed  him  I" 

"  No,  miss,"  said  the  boy,  "  there  yoa 
arc  wrong.  You  may  depend  that  such 
is  not  the  case,  or  my  cousin  Mary  would 
have  told  me  as  much.  He  is  only  ta- 
ken prisoner  by  somebody." 

"  We  thank  you  for  being  so  kind  as 
to  bring  us  this  information," said  Blake. 
'•Take  back  our  kiud  acknowledgments 
to  your  cousin  Mary,  for  taking  so  much 
trouble.'' 

Poor  Jane  would  fain  have  thanked 
Philip  likewise,  but  she  was  in  such  a 
state  of  mental  prostration,  that  she 
found  it  impossible  to  do  so. 

'Don't  fancy,"  said  Philip,  "  that  I 
deserve  any  thanks.  The  fact  is,  I  love 
my  cousin  Mary  so  well,  that  I  always 
do  whatever  she  tells  me,  and  she  says 
that  Fred  hid  in  their  garden,  and  that 
she  did  all  she  could  to  save  him,  but 
could  not." 

'•  Blessings  be  upon  her !"  sobbed 
Jane. 

"  And  so  when  he  was  taken,"  addsd 
Ph'lip,  "  he  asked  her  to  send  some  one 
to  this  place  at  twelve  o'clock  with  the 
news." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  heard  froMj 
Philip,  and  Blake  bade  him  adieu,  and 
turning  to  Jane,  he  said — 

"  It  will  be  necessary  now  that  you 
get  to  some  place,  as  soon  as  possible, 
where  you  will  be  secure  from  Peter 
Bayley.  I  know  an  old  couple  who  !»e 
taking  care  of  a  great  farm-house  that  is 
to  be  let,  at  Wood  Green,  a  little  place 
close  to  Tottenham.  There  I  can  aS" 
sure  you  of  a  welcome." 


26 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


"  Anywhere,"  said  Jane,  with  a  fresh 
fcorst  of  grief,  "  anywhere  you  please." 
Blake  led  her  to  the  place  he  had 
mentioned,  where  they  knocked  up  the 
old  couple,  and  where,  from  the  kindness 
of  the  reception  they  got  on  Blake's  ac- 
count, it  was  quite  evident  that  he  had 
baen  of  great  service  to  them. 

Blake  told  some  portion  of  Jane's 
story  to  thf  old  people,  and  then  they 
oflFered  to  otiduct  her  to  her  chamber, 
but  she  sobbed  convulsively. 

"All  this  will  kill  me,"  said  Jane. 
"Do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  try  to  prevent 
raein  any  way  from  going  to  Fred.  Sure- 
ly they  ciunot  be  so  barbarous  as  to 
wish  to  prevent  any  one  from  seeing  him  ? 
Even  the  oflBcers  of  the  law  cannot  wish 
to  Leap  more  misery  upon  his  head  than 
he  mufei  suffer  from  the  fact  of  his  im- 
prisonment ?" 

*•  You  must  not  speak  so,  Miss  Jane.'' 
•      "  And  why  must  I  not?" 

'•  For  several  reasons.  In  the  first 
place,  if  you  attempt  to  go  to  Newgate 
to  see  Fearless  Fred,  you  may  certainly 
bring  yourself  into  danger,  but  you  can 
do  him  no  good.  You  should  recollect 
that  the  chief  anxiety  that  he  will  suffer 
will  be  upon  your  account." 
«  That  is  true." 

"  And,  therefore,  I  who  know  how  to 
communicate  with  him,  even  though  he 
were  in  the  most  gloomy  cell  of  Newgate 
ought  to  be  in  a  position  to  assure  him 
with  truth  that  all  is  well  with  you  " 

"  Yes — yes.  That  is  all  true,  like- 
wise." 

"  Then  you  must  abandon  your  idea 
of  going  to  Newgate." 

"  I  will,"  said  Jane,  as  she  sobbed  con- 
volsively.     "I  will." 

Leaving,  then,  Jane  and  the  other 
young  girl  to  the  care  of  Blake,  we  now 
return  to  Fearless  Fred,  who,  it  will  be 


recollected,  had  just  been  taken  into  th«» 
lobby  of  Newgate  by  the  officer*. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RETURNS  TO  »RED  IN  NEWGATE 

We  cannot  pretend  to  say  that  even 
Fearless  Fred,  with  all  the  natural  oou 
rage  of  his  disposition,  felt  nothing  upon 
finding  himself  in  that  gloomy  and  ter- 
rible prison  of  Newgate.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  a  presentiment  of  evil  for- 
tune came  over  him. 

The  darkness  uf  the  lobby  of  the  pris 
on  was  too  dark  for  the  turnkeys  even, 
who  were  used  to  it,  to  notice  anything 
very. particular,  so  they  did  not  see  the 
change  of  color  that  came  over  the  face 
of  Fearless  Fred. 

He,  Fred,  felt  quite  grateful  to  tho 
darkness  that  prevented  them  from  ob- 
serving and  commenting  upon  such  a 
sign  of  weakness  in  him. 

"  The  governor  will  be  glad  to  see  this 
new  bird,  who  is  going  to  make  one  in 
the  old  cage,"  said  one  of  the  officials  of 
the  prisoner. 

'  We  won't  give  him  up  without  the 
governor's  receipt  for  him,  I  can  tell 
yon,"  said  one  of  the  officers  who  had 
brought  Fred  from  the  police  office  in 
Bow  street. 

•'  Oh,  you  will  have  your  receipt,  never 
fear  We  do  business,  you  see,  in  a  bu- 
siness-like-way. and  so " 

"  Hush  !"  said  another.  "  Here  is  the 
governor  coming,  and  one  of  the  sheriflPs 
with  him.     Stand  back  will  you?" 

The  governor  of  Newgate  was  an  old 
retired  military  officer,  whose  poverty 
more  than  his  will  had  consented  that 
the  not  very  enviatle  post  should  be  ta- 
ken. He  was  a  tolerable  disciplinarian, 
though,  and  the  only  serious  fault  that 


H'EARLESS   FRED. 


he  had,  was  a  certa^.n  irritability  of  tem- 
per, wbicli  would  peep  out  at  times  ia 
a  very  undignified  fashion. 

The  sheriff  who  accompanied  him  was 
a  Scotch  tailor,  who.  by  dint  of  hard  ly- 
ing and  spurious  puffing,  liad  made  mo- 
ney, and  so  qualified  himself  for  any  civic 
•ffice ;  and  he  was  beginning  a  career 
w'hicl),  he  flattered  himself  would  end 
iu  the  Lord  Mayor's  chair,  by  serving 
his  first  year  of  sheriffdom,  if  we  may 
be  allowed  the  expressien  with  reference 
to  that  office. 

"  Noo,  Mr.  Governor,"  said  the  sher- 
iff, "you  will  see,  mon,  the  propriety  of 
recommending  to  the  authorities,  which 
[  cannot  very  well  do  mysel,  that  the 
turnkeys  and  such  like  should  have  the 
new  great  coats  made  by  our  house  ; 
and  as  you  see,  mon,  it  would  no  look 
weel  for  me  to  tak  the  order,  why,  my 
brother  can  do  it  for  me,  all  being  to- 
gether, you  understand,  mon." 

"  1  hope  to  Heaven  you  will,  some 
day,"  said  the  governor. 

•'  Eh,  mon  ?     What  is  that  you  say  ?" 

"  I  said.  I  hoped  you  would." 

"  Oh,  weel,  1  dare  say  it  is  some  com- 
pliment to  the  way  in  which  we  do  busi- 
aess,  mon." 

"  Very  well.  sir.  If  you  like  to  take 
it  as  a  compliment,  you  tiiay  ;  but  I  beg 
to  tell  you,  Mr.  Tailor  Siieriff,  that  1 
won't  lend  myself  to  your  advertising 
tricks." 

"  Tricks,  moa — tricks  ?  Did  you  say 
tricks  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,  so  make  the  most  of  it. 
Now,  Davis,  do  you  want  me  for  any- 
thing V 

'■'  Yes,  sir,  if  you  please.  Here  is  a 
special  remand  warrant  from  Sir  John 
Ross." 

"  Oh,  very  well.  I  dare  say  Sir  John 
[loss  would  not  send  any  one  here  on  a 
special   remand,  without    good  reason. 


Who  is  it,  I  wonder?  Ililloa  !  Fearitss 
Fred  !  I.s  that  the  young  fellow  that 
Peter  Bayley  is  so  savage  about  ?" 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  cried  Fred 
•'Peter.  I  think,  would  give  one  of  hi» 
villanous  ears  to  catch  me  ;  but  I  hopft 
that  I  am  in  the  hands  of  the  proper 
authorities,  and  not  of  such  a  scoundrel.* 

"  You  are  in  Newgate, my  fine  fellow,* 
said  the  governor. 

"  The  governor  of  Newgate,"'  said  Fred, 
"  is  an  oSicer  and  a  gcntlenian,  and  he 
will  do  his  duty.  All  I  ask  of  him  is  to 
keep  me  out  of  the  clutches  of  Peter 
Bayley. 

"  Peter  Bayley  has  no  more  power 
here,"  said  the  governor,"  than  the  man 
who  sweeps  the  crossing  at  the  corner  of 
the  Old  Bailey  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  bear  it,  sir.  He  pre- 
tends that  he  has  power  everywhere, 
and  that  he  is  superior  to  every  one  who 
is  in  any  way  connected  with  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  law." 

"  Let  him  come  hear  and' try  it,"  said 
the  governor,  drily. 

"Fearless  Fred,  did  you  say'?"  cried 
the  sheriff.  "  Did  you  say  Fearless  Fred 
was  the  youth's  name,  Mr.  Governor'?'' 

"  Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Sheriff" 

The  sheriff  walked  up  to  Fred,  and 
looked  at  him  from  head  to  foot. 

'•  And  so  you  are  the  Fear'.ess  Fred 
that  we  have  heard  so  much  about  late- 
ly ■?  You  are  the  gallant  who  has  stop- 
ped me  on  the  highway,  are  you  *?  Wh« 
would  have  thought  it !" 

"  There's  your  receipt,  Mr.  Davis," 
said  the  governor.  "  Sir  John  Ross  may 
depend  upon  the  safe  keeping  of  this 
prisoner.     Take  him  away  !' 

"  Stop  a  bit,''  said  the  sheriff, — "stop. 
I  just  want  to  flay  something  to  the 
young  man." 

"  This  is  very  irregular,"  said  the  go 
vernor.       "You  should   recollect,  Mr 


98 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


Tailor  Sheriff,  that  this  is  a  prisoner, 
and  that  Lc  ought  sot  to  be  eouferred 
with  by  any  one." 

"  Tut— tut.  man  !  ain't  I  the  sheriff? 
I  won't  detaio  him  manj  minutes.  Now, 
listen  to  me,  joung  man." 

*"  Go  on,"  said  Fred.     "  What  is  it  *" 

"  You  will  be  hanged." 

**  Wfli,  so  ma  J  you.'* 

'' God  guide  ua,  no !  But  nerer  mind. 
I  will  excuse  the  expression.  But  1 
bare  a  great  favor  to  ask  of  jou,  and 
that  is,  that  when  you  are  hanged  you 
will  wear  a  coat  that  I  will  send  you, 
and  before  you  are  turned  off  you  will 
have  the  goodness  to  advance  to  the  front 
of  the  scaffold,  and  say,  "  Good  people, 
this  coat  was  made  by  Messrs  Tickeli 
and  Co.,  and  it  is  the  most  comfortable 
coat  a  man  can  be  hung  in,  and  only  one 
pound  ten,  cash  price.  Messrs  Tickeli 
and  Co.,  merchant  tailors.  Many  use 
the  word  snip,  but  they  are  the  only  true 
snips  in  Loudon.'' 

Fred  looked  at  the  sheriff,  as  he  utter- 
ed with  great  volubility  this  harangue, 
which  was  a  repetition  of  one  of  the 
gtieriff's  advertisements,  and  he  thought 
fturcly  the  sheriff  must  be  mad. 

Fi-td  litde  knew  what  the  spirit  of 
trading  competition  will  induce  people 
I'i  iio  in  London. 

"  Come — corae,"  said  the  governor, 
•  enough  of  this." 

"  Nay,  but  let  me  hear  what  he  has  to 
say  to  it,"  cried  the  sheriff;  "surely  if 
the  young  man  can  do  mc  a  favor  and 
himself  no  harm,  he  will  not  refuse  it. 
What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Fred  ?" 

"  I  say,  that  if  anybody  had  told  mc 
wbat  a  heartless  and  brutal  fool  you 
were,  I  would  not  have  believed  it,"  said 
Fred  ;  ''  and  it  only  proves  what  a  very 
wttall  amount  of  intellect  is  required  in 
trade  iu  Loudoo.  Don't  trouble  mc 
idiot!" 
*  Idiot !     lie  oalls  mo  aa  idiot  !^ 


"  He  is  very  wrong,"  said  the  gOTer» 
nor. 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  wrong." 

"  Yes,"  added  the  governor,  in  a  whi* 
per,  "  you  are  more  rogue  than  fool.  I 
would  not  pay  you  the  compliment  ol 
calling  you  an  idiot,  for  that  would  be  to 
let  you  off  some  share  of  your  awful  sal' 
fishneas.'' 

"  What  do  you  say,  governor?'' 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  only  said  that,  as  a 
general  thing,  the  world  is  rather  selfish. 

"  That's  uncommonly  true,"  said  the 
sheriff,  with  a  sigh,  "  and  it  is  wofuUy 
shown  in  the  lad  who  won't  do  me  a 
.service  though  it  will  do  him  no  harm 
Well— Well!  Good-day,  Mr  Governor. 
I  am  going  to  see  if  I  can't  take  off  six- 
pence a  week  off  tlie  wages  of  the  poor 
woman  who  n^ake  the  waistcoats.  They 
earn  two  shillings  and  eightpeuce  al- 
ready, and  that's  dreadful,  for  I  hear  that 
Abraham  and  Son  only  pay  two-and-four- 
pence  ;  so  that  I  am  getting  swindled 
out  of  fourpence  a  week.  Oh,  gracious! 
it's  awful  to  think  of  !'' 

"  Confound  that  fellow  t"  muttered  the 
governor  when  the  sheriff  was  gone. 
"It  is  a  disgrace  to  the  City  of  Londoa 
to  pick  up  such  men,  and  thrust  them 
into  office.  Now,  Fearless  Fred,  let  lae 
say  a  word  to  you." 

"  As  many  as  you  like,  sir.** 

"  As  long  as  you  are  civil  here,  aad 
make  no  attempt  to  give  us  the  slip,  re- 
collect, that  all  the  kiudncss  that  I  eaa 
show  you  consistently  with  my  duty,  and 
all  the  indulgences  that  I  can  give  you 
I  will ;  but  if  you  attempt  any  of  your 
tfticks.  you  had  better  be  a  cat  in  a  certain 
place  without  claws." 

"  I  hear  you.  sir." 

"Anddo'you  understand  mtV* 

«  I  think  I  do." 

"  Very  good  ;  that  is  all  I  have  to  say 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


tft 


•o  yon.  Put  bira  in  No.  40,  Mr  Green, 
if  yoa  please ,' 

The  povernnr  turned  upon  hia  bee), 
wid  left  the  lobby. 

'•  Is  No  40  a  very  nice  place,  indeed  ?' 
•aid  Fearless  Fred. 

"  Well,  tbere's  worse  in  Newgate  said 
Wie  officer. 

'•  All's  right,  then.  I  shan't  grumble 
But  stop  a  bit ;  1  have  heard  that  the  best 
thing  a  man  can  do  when  he  gets  here  is 
to  show  that  he  thinks  well  of  hisjail- 
•rs." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  a  bad  thing." 

"  Very  good.  I  iiave  some  money 
about  me,  but  I  want  some  of  it  for  the 
tupport  of  those  w  ho  are  dependant  upon 
me  out  of  doors,  as  well  as  for  the  pro- 
bable expenses  of  my  own  defence.  If  I 
halve  with  jou  what  I  have,  will  that 
content  you  V 

^  Quite,  Fearless  Fred.  When  a  gen- 
tleman shows  us  that  he  is  a  gentleman, 
and  wishes  to  act  like  one.  we  are  never 
very  particular  what  we  do  for  him." 

'•  Tliere's  the  money,  then,''  said  Fred  ; 
'•  and  all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  wish  it  were 
ten  times  the  amount,  for  all  our  sakes.'' 

'•  All's  right.  You  are  a  straight-for- 
ward sort  of  cliap,  and  you  won't  lose 
» nothing  by  treating  us  in  this  sort  of 
way,  I  can  toll  you." 

"^  That  he  won't,"  said  the  others. 

Fred  had  heard  quite  sufficient  of  the 
\8ode  in  which  aff.iirs  were  conducted  in 
Newgate  to  be  well  aware  that,  with  the 
turnkeys  and  general  officers  of  that 
prison,  money  was  everything.  All  that 
is  quite  reformed  now;  but  in  Fearless 
Fred's  time,  if  a  prisoner  was  sent  to 
Kewgate  and  had  plenty  of  money  with 
btm,  so  that  he  could  fee  the  officers 
well  in  the  shape  of  garnish,  as  they  call- 
ed it,  he  might  do  almost  what  he  liked, 
with  the  exception  of  actually  walking 
»ut  of  the  gate  into  tliM  street. 

T>JO  ocll  marked  iO  in  vriuch  Fearless 


Fred  was  now  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  placed,  was  by  no  means  one  of 
the  worst  in  the  building  It  was  toler^ 
ably  light,  and  was  larger  than  the  gen- 
erality of  cells.  It  was  not  an  agreeable 
thing,  though,  for  Fred  to  find  that  the 
governor  thought  proper  to  have  a  setol 
fetters  placed  upon  him,  for  his  better 
security. 

"There's  surely  no  need  of  these?" 
said  Fred. 

'•  It's  the  governor's  orders." 

Those  words  were  qui^e  conclusive, 
and  Fred  felt  how  utterly  useless  it 
would  be  for  him  to  raise  any  further 
objection  to  the  fetters  ;  so.  upon  the 
principle  which  he  had  laid  down  for 
liimself,  of  submitting  with  a  good  gjuce 
to  everything  that  was  unavoidable,  he 
said  not  another  word  about  the  fetters. 

One  of  the  officers  made  a  remark  to 
the  smith  who  was  rivettijig  them  on, 
and  while  the  smith  turned  his  head  to 
reply,  Fred  took  a  file  and  a  pair  of 
pincers  out  of  the  basket  of  tools. 

Luckily  for  Fred,  no  one  noticed  this 
rather  daring  act,  or  it  would,  no  doubt, 
have  been  considered  to  be  the  com- 
mencement of  hostilities  between  him  and 
the  authorites  of  the  prison. 

"  Now,  young  fellow,"  said  the  smithy 
when  he  had  finished  his  work,  "  get  out 
of  that  if  you  can." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Fred. 

"  Oh,  ho  don't  want  to  get  out."  said 
an  officer.  "  He  is  all  right  enough,  and 
from  what  I  can  hear,  I  don't  know  that 
it  will  go  very  hard  with  him  on  his  trial, 
either"' 

"  Peter  Bayley  ia  my  enemy,"  said 
Fie.l. 

The  officer  whistled. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  that's  the  case,  he  has 
made  up  his  mind  about  yon,  one  way  or 
the  other.  He  will  bring  you  through  the 
affair  altogether  as  neat  as  possible  or 
ho  will  hang  you." 


30 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


«  Or  he  will  neither,"  saiJ  Fred. 

"  Well,  you  knovy  your  own  business 
best,  young  gentleman  I  wish  you  luck 
that's  all.  I  rather  like  you  than  not 
Poor  Fred  had  managed  to  keep  up  hi.'; 
spirits  pretty  well  while  he  was  in  tlie 
presence  of  the  officers,  but  when  he  was 
quite  alone,  he  found  himself  quite  over 
whelmed  at  the  idea  that  at  last  he  was  an 
inhabitant  of  that  gloomy  prison,  which 
always  had  risen  up  before  his  imagiua 
tion  full  of  sadness  and  terror.  He  be- 
c&u  to  compare  his  present  condition 
with  that  time  when  his  father  lived,  and 
whatever  might  have  but  been  the  evils 
and  discomforts  of  his  position,  in  con 
sequence  of  Mrs.  Martindale,  he  was,  at 
least,  innocent  of  crime. 

From  these  reflections,  then,  Fred 
passed  on  to  a  dearer  one — of  his  first 
meeting  Jane,  and  the  singular  maniier 
in  which  she  had  been  thrown  upon  his 
precarious  protection ;  and  then  he  asked 
himself  what  would  become  of  her  if  he 
ghould  be  cast  for  death,  and  not  bo  able 
to  escape  the  doom  which  the  law  then 
with  a  much  greater  amount  of  reckless- 
ness then  now,  dealt  out  even  to  those 
who  had  committed  only  crimes  against 
property. 

Other  offences,  though,  could  easily 
be  brought  to  bear  against  poor  Fred, 
for  when  he  had  been  attacked,  we  know 
that  he  had  not  been  over-scrupulous  in. 
the  way  in  which  he  defended  himself 
From  these  thoughts  he  brought  his 
reflections  right  down  to  his  present 
position ;  and  then  when  he  began  to 
consider  his  age,  and  how  much  he  had 
gone  through,  he  thought  it  was  hard  to 
die  yet. 

He  lean  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and 
gave  himself  up  for  an  hour  or  more  to 
those  frightful  reflections,  and  they 
might  have  lasted  longer  but  that  he 
heard  the  clank  of  footsteps  upon  the 


stone  pavement  outsidti  his  cell,  and  then 
rite  rattle  of  the  chains  and  the  heavy 
fall  of  the  bar  that  secured  the  door. 

"  Hillna.  Fred  •  '  said  a  voice. 

'•  Who  is  that  ?"  said  Fred. 

"  Alls  right;  only  a  visitor,  that's 
all.  Walk  in,  sir  ;  you  will  find  him 
there."     Who  is  it?"  cried  Fred. 

The  cell  was  quite  dark,  for  it  waa 
evening  time  now,  and  in  that  gloomy 
place  the  daylight  had  but  to  half  go  to 
produced  a  complete  night  in  the  atmoo* 
phere,  so  that  all  Fred  could  see  waa  a 
dark  figure  crossing  the  thresholo  of  the 
cell.  That  figure,  though,  had  a  lantern 
with  him,  with  a  slide  to  it  that  shut  up 
or  exposed  the  light  of  it  at  pleauxe, 
and  now,  when  the  door  of  the  cell  was 
closed,  the  visitor  moved  tlie  slide  of  the 
lantern  back  with  a  sharp  crack,  and 
holding  it  up,  let  the  bright  beam  of 
light  all  upon  his  face. 

"  Peter  Bayley!  "  said  Fred. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !"  said  Peter 

"  I  thought  that  I  was,  at  least,  free 
from  you  here,"  added  Fred.  •'  I  don't 
know  what  right  you  have  to  come  trou- 
bling me.   1  will  not  speak  with  you" 

Ha  !  ha  !"  laughed  Bayley  in  his  odd 
manner,  again,  "  you  won't  speak  to 
me?" 

"  No.  you  infernal  scoundrel,  I  won't 
except  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you'* 

"  Have  a  care,  Fearless  Fred.  Keep 
civil.  Your  fate  is  in  my  hands.  Do 
not  tamper  with  your  life." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !" 

(I  Well — well,  we  shall  see.  I  camo 
here  by  virtue  of  an  order  from  the 
Secretary  of  State,  which  will  admit  me 
at  all  times  and  at  any  time  I  like  U 
your  cell.  You  cannot  shake  me  off, 
Fearless  Fred.  I  have  made  a  determi- 
nation to  stick  to  you  now  while  job 
live." 

Fred  made  him  no  answer. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


31 


*And  now,"  added  Peter, '-I  begin 
to  believe  in  the  truth  of  the  old  saj'iug, 
that  if  a  man  is  born  to  be  hanged,  you 
can't  drown  him." 

Fred  knew  that  Peter  alluded  to  the 
affair  at  the  river  Brent,  when  he, 
Fred,  had  gone  off  upon  Bayley's  horse, 
for  Peter  was  by  no  means  as  yet  pos- 
sessed of  the  particulars  of  that  affair. 
Still  Fred  made  liim  no  sort  of  answer. 

"  You  may  speak  or  not,"  added  Bay- 
ley.  "  I  have  come  to  you  to  say  my 
Bay,  and  when  I  have  done  I  will  leave 
you  to  think  it  over.  Your  life,  I  tell 
you.  Fearless  Fred,  is  in  my  hands.  It 
is  in  my  power  to  manage  to  soften  or  to 
aggravate  the  evidence  against  you  in 
the  cases  of  highway  robbery  that  wiil 
be  brought  forward  against  you,  so  as  to 
insure  your  acquittal  or  your  conviction. 
If  you  are  convicted,  nothing  on  earth 
;an  save  you  from  the  gallows.'' 

'•What  means?"  said  Fred. 

*'  Oh.  you  have  found  your  tongue  ? 
Well,  Fred,  I  am  a  man  who  is  very 
much  misunderstood.  Some  folks  think 
I  bear  malice." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Fred. 

"But  I  don't — oh,  dear,  no.  There 
is  a  peculiarity  in  my  disposition  that 
enables  me  always  to  forgive  those  things 
that  seem  to  be  the  most  directed  against 
me  from  a  brave  man.  I  say,  that  is 
one  of  my  littl*  peculiarities." 

''  I  have  heard,"  said  Fred,  "  that  you 
have  a  few." 

Fred  felt  quite  certain  that  Peter 
Bayley  had  some  deep  design  in  visiting 
him  in  this  way.  and  his  curiosity  was 
aroused  to  discover  what  it  was;  so  he 
waa  tempted  to  forego  bis  first  resolve 
not  to  speak  to  him  at  all. 

"  Yes,"  added  Bayley,  as  Le  placed 
the  lantern  upon  the  little  wooden  table 
that  constituted,  beside  the  truckle  bed. 
the  only  article  of  furniture  in  the  cell, 


"  yes,  Fearless  Fred,  although  you  bar* 
aimed  more  than  ouce  at  my  life,  I  can 
yet  forgive  you." 

"  Your  virtue,"  said  Fred,  "  is  quite 
wonderful." 

"Sneer  away — sneer  away,  Fearless 
Fred  ;  I  give  you,  young  as  you  are, 
credit  for  more  active  good  sense  than 
many  who  are  double  your  age  ;  and  so  I 
have  a  direct  and  clear  off^r  to  make  to 
you,  upon  your  acceptance  of  which  you 
may  save  your  life." 

"  Go  on,  Peter  !" 

"  There  is  a  little  cedar  box ^" 

"  Oh,  are  you  there,  Peter  !  There 
certainly  is  a  little  cedar-box.  Well, 
what  of  it  1" 

Bayley  was  rather  agitated,  and  gen 
erally  calm  and  cool  and  collected  as  ho 
was,  he  found  a  difficulty  to  repress  the 
feelings  of  impatience  that  possessed  him; 
but  he  spoke  slowly,  notwithstanding, 
although  the  couched  tone  of  his  voice 
sufficiently  betrayed  the  inward  work- 
ings of  his  spirit. 

"  I  tell  you,  then,  Fearless  Fred,  that 
if  you  will  place  that  cedar-box  in  my 
hands,  I  will  guarantee  you  your  life." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  It's  only  the  box  yoa 
want?" 

"^  Pshaw  !     The  contents   of  course.'' 

'•  Well,  Peter,  it  is  a  fair  enough  of- 
fer." 

"  It  is  such  a  one  as  only  I  can  make 
you.  I  have  the  power  to  save  you,  and 
not  only  will  I  do  it  in  this  instance, 
but  I  will  for  the  future  hold  my  pro- 
tecting hand  over  you,  and  the  lock  of  a 
prison  shall  never  again  turn  upon  you, 
Qor  a  felons  fetters  gall  your  limbs.'* 

*'Umph!" 

"  You  doubt  my  power  ?  That  is  fool- 
ish, Fred.  I  tell  you  that  it  is  compe- 
tent for  all  that  I  promise.  The  ad- 
ministration of  the  criminal  law  in  thiff 
country  '■'  "^  '•'Jse,  that  any  bold,  enter 


82 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


prising  man  could  step  in  and  exercise 
a  power  ju3t  ill  proportiou  to  Lis  unscru- 
pulousness.     You  see.  I  don't  pick  my 
words  when  I  am   talking  to  you.  Fred, 
because  I  wish  that  you  should  plainly 
understand  me.     I  am  sucli  a  man,  and 
by  one  means  and  aiiothv.r  I  have  great 
power  either  for  life  or    for  death.     I 
oan    save   you,  or   I  can   destroy  you 
Which  shall  it  be?     I  pauae   for  your 
answer,  Fearless  Fred." 
"You  shall  have  it." 
"  The  box  ?" 

"  Ob,  no  !     My  answer  I  meant." 
"  Don't  play  with  your  existence  in 
ibis  way,  Fearless  Fred.     You  are  young 
enough  to  wish  to  live,  surely  ?"' 

"  Yes,  I  own  that  I  wish  to  live,  but 
there  are  considerations  superior  even  to 
the  wish  to  live.^^  It  is  true — quite  true 
that  I  know  where  to  lay  my  hand  upon 
that  box  you  speak  of." 

"You — you  do — you  do,  Fr^d?'* 
"  1  do,  Peter." 

"  Then  you  will  tell  me  at  once,  good 
Fred  You  are  not  so  mad  as  quite  to 
throw  your  life  away  for  a  foolish  cccar- 
box.  Oh,  no — no  !  Where  is  it  ? 
Speak,  Fred,  and  make  me  your  friend 
for  ever  " 

"  That  is  something  !" 
•'It  is  everything  to  you,  Fred — it  is 
life  instead  of  death — it  is  daylight  in- 
stead of  darkness — it  is  the  world  in- 
stead of  the  grave  !" 

"  Oh.  yes,  I  know  all  that.  Well, 
then,  Peter,  you  won't  let  it  go  any 
further  ?" 

"  No — no,  good  God  no  !" 
"You    won't    be    angry — you  #won't 
breathe  the  secret  to  any  one  else  even 
iu  the  strictest  confidence?'' 

"  No,  I  say ;  a  thousand  times,  no  I" 

"  Well,  then,  Peter,  the  box  is — that 

is  to  say,  the  cedar-box  tied  up  with  a 

pieoe  of  red  tape,  found  by  me  in  Lolan- 

ti's  house " 


" Go  on!     D n,  why  do  you  play 

with  me  in  this  way." 

"I  play  with  you?  I  play  with  the 
great  Peter  Bayley  T  You  might  as 
well  ask  a  mouse  to  play  with  a  cat.  I 
tell  you.  therefore,  frankly  and  freely, 
Peter  Bayley,  that  the  cedar-box  with 
the  red  tape  around  it,  abx>ut  eight  inch- 
es long  and  about  four  in  width,  that  1 
found  in  Lolanti's  house  after  the  death 
of  that  personage '' 

'•  Gracious  Heavens  !     Yes — yes." 
"  Well,  listen  :     if  these  were  the  last 
words  I  had  to  speak  iu  this  world,  they 
should  be  as  true.     The  box  is — " 

'•  Well  r 

'•  You  are  sure  that  turnkey  ain't  li« 
tening  at  the  door  V 

"  D— n  it— no  ?" 

"  Then,  it  is  in  a  very  safe  place." 

'■■  Well  ?" 

"  Well,  I  say,  it  is  in  a  very  safe  place. 
What  would  you  have  more?" 

"But  where  is  it?"'  cried  Peter,  in  a 
thundering  voice  of  rage. 

'•  That  is  a  little  piece  of  information,'' 
said  Fred,  calmly,  "  that  I  mean  to  keep 
to  myself:  and  if  every  hair  on  your 
head,  Peter,  was  a  diamond,  and  you 
were  to  shave  them  all  off  and  offer  them 
to  me,  I  would  not  tell  you!" 

Bayley  raised  his  hand  to  strike  at 
Fred,  but  the  latter  sprang  to  the  table, 
and  seizing  the  lantern,  he  flung  it  in 
Peter's  face,  and  out  it  went,  leaving 
the  cell  in  the  most  profound  darkness 

"Help!  Help!  Lights  1  Ililioa' 
Turnkey  I''  cried  Bayley.  '■•  Opeu  the 
door,  will  you !'' 

"  Hoi !  what's  the  row,  now  V"  said 
the  turnkey,  opening  the  door  of  the 
cell,  and  holding  up  his  lantern. 

•'  He  tried  to  murder  me, "  said  Bay 
ley. 

The  turnkey  grinned,  as  he  looked  k( 
Fred  sitting    very  composcdlj    on  hiM 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


sa 


bed,  while  Peter  Bayl«y  Lad  a  large  pis- 
tol in  liis  hand. 

"Why,  Mr.  Bayley,"  said  the  man, 
"  one  would  have  thought  that  you  might 
have  taken  care  o£  yourself  from  such  a 
boy  as  that,  with  fetters  on  his  limhs, 
too.     You  nmst  be  j"king,  Mr.  Bayley." 

"  No— no,''  said  Bayley,  "  ray  feelings 
were  orercorae.  1  was  talking  to  him 
about — about  his  poor  mother,  and  offer-, 
ing  to  protGct  him.  He  has  broken  her 
heart,  poor  woman.  He  is  a  most  hard- 
«ned  criminal." 

"  Really,"'  said  the  officer. 

Peter  Bayley  turned  his  frightfully 
ugly  couiit(niance  towards  Fred,  and  in 
a  voice  almost  inarticulate  with  rage,  he 
Raid — 

"  Remember  me !'' 

"  Easily,"  said  Fred  ;  "  you  are  so  in- 
fHrnally  ugly,  that,  once  seen,  it  is  quite 
imnossible  for  any  one  to  forget  you  " 

The  turnkey  burst  into  a  loud  laugh, 
for,  after  all,  they  did  not  care  much  for 
Peter  at  Newgate. 

''  Ay,"  said  Bayley  "  laugh  now,  I  like 
til  hear  it ;  but  when  I  say  that  I  will 
change  the  laugh  of  every  man  to  groans, 
I  generally — mind  you,  I  say  I  general- 
ly keep  my  word.  Good  evening,  Fear- 
less Fred— good  evening,  Mr.  John 
Holmes,  nnder-turnkey  at  Newgate. 
Good  evening,  and  very  pleasant  dreams 
ti)  both  of  you.'' 

The  turnkey  looked  a  little  alarmed, 
for  well  he  knew  that  when  Peter  Bay- 
ley  determined  to  be  spiteful,  he  would 
stir  heaven  and  earth  to  be  so  ;  but.  af- 
ter all,  he  thought,  what  could  Bayley 
do  to  him  ? 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Bayley,"  he  said 
"what  harm  there  is  in  our  laughing. 
It  ain't  quite  the  most  cheerful  place  in 
flic  world,  this  Newgate." 

Fred  was  more  troubled  at  this  visit 
from  Peter  than  he  chose  to  lot  that  vil- 
i<i<t  stf« ;  but  yet  he  was,  upon  rttflootion 


something  of  the  opinion  of  the  turnkey, 
namely,  that  Peter  could  not  do  him. 
much  injury,  after  all.  That  he  would  ; 
be  put  upon  his  trial  for  highway  rob- 
bery, looked  beyond  a  donbt,  and  that  if  \ 
the  witnesses  chose  to  depose  to  the 
facts,  he  would  bo  executed,  was  likewise 
pretty  clear ;  but  beyond  that  the  dan- 
ger ended.  That  is  to  say,  ended  with 
his  existence,  for  in  those  days,  to  be 
committed  was  to  be  hung. 

"  I  should  like  to  live,"'  said  Fred, 
"for  the  sake  of  Jane,  l^less  her,  how 
desolate  she  will  be  without  me  ;  and 

when  I  am  no  more,  she .     Pshaw  ! 

I  will  not  have  hucIi  gloomy  thoughts — 
I  will  notyield  even  to  the  despondency 
of  euch  a  situation  as  mine.  I  will  hope 
to  the  l?st.  Ah  !  the  file  and  pincera 
that  I  took  from  the  smitli"s  basket — I 
had  well  nigh  forgotten  them.  What 
can  I  do  with  them  '?  I  have  heard  oi 
men  making  tbeir  way  to  freedom  with 
worse  implement"  than  a  file  and  a  pair 
of  iron  pincers." 

Fred  groped  aboot  in  his  dark  cell  till 
he  laid  hands  upon  both  his  tools,  and 
then  the  idea  occurred  to  him  that  in 
the  morning  he  would  be  certainly  taken 
before  Sir  John  Ross  to  be  formally 
committed  for  trial,  and  that  if  he  were 
to  tamper  with  his  fetters  then  it  would 
be  surely  found  out,  whereas,  after  his 
committal  he  would  have  ample  time  to 
think  of  what  was  best  to  be  done,  pend- 
ing the  day  of  his  trial.  Under  thes* 
circumstances,  Fred  adopted  a  wisfl 
course. 

"I  will  hide  these  tools,"  he  said; 
"  they  are  of  no  use  to  me  now.  but  they 
may  be  another  day." 

With  this  resolve,  he  managed  to  hide 
the  file  and  the  fioccrs  in  the  mattress 
that  was  given  him  to  sleep  upon,  and 
then,  such  a  feeling  of  wearir>ess  came 
over  Fred  that  he  gave  in  to  the  opin- 
ion, that  let  a  man's  »ituation  be  what  it 


34 


•    FEARLESS    FRED 


rimy,  and  let  his  aniieticg  be  ©f  what 
sort  or  couiplcxion  tLey  may,  sleep  he 
must. 

"I  would  pray  for  Jane,"  he  said,  as 
he  fluDg  himself  upon  the  hard  mattress. 
'  but  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  inuocent 
enough  to  pray.  God  will  protect  her 
without  any  prayers  from  me.' 

For  all  this,  though,  Fred,  before  he 
closed  his  eyes  in  sleep,  uttered  with 
deep  sincerity  the  words — 

"  God  bless  her  !" 

This  was  a  very  good  prayer,  and 
quite  enough. 

It  seemed  to  Fearless  Fred  as  if  he 
had  only  slept  for  a  few  minutes,  before 
he  felt  himself  rudely  shaken  by  the 
shoulder,  and  a  rough  voice  cried — 

'•Up — up,  and  be  stiring,  Fearless 
Fred.  We  don't  lie  in  bed  late  of  a 
morning  here." 

Fred  started  to  his  feet. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  he  said. 

"  The  matter  ?  Oh,  nothing  particu- 
lar is  the  matter,  only,  old  fellow,  you 
will  be  wanted  to  go  before  the  beak, 
you  see." 

"  Why,  it's  daylight !» 

"D.iylight?  Of  course  it  is.  Did 
you  think,  because  you  were  clapped  up 
in  the  stone-jug,  that  the  daylight  was 
never  to  come  again,  eh?  What  an 
idea !" 

"  No,"  said  Fred,  "  I  did  not  think 
that,  but  I  slept  so  sound  that  the  night 
has  passed  away  like  nothing  at  all. 
But  I  am  all  right  now.  Breakfast,  if 
you  please,  for  I  am  rather  inclined  that 
way." 

"  Well,  you  can  have  the  prison  fare, 
and  that  is  gruel  and  a  bit  of  not  the 
softest  nor  the  whitest  bread  ;  but  if  you 
like  to  pay,  why,  you  can  have — " 

"  Anything  I  like,  I  suppose?" 

«  Exactly." 

"  Take  that  guinea  and  get  me  as  good 


a  breakfast  as  yuur  eooscienee  will  let 

you.  and  keep  the  change" 
I  "  You  are  a  trump,  Fearless  Fred,  and 
no  soft  of  a  mistake.  I  will  do  you  jus- 
tice, you  may  depend ;  and  if  I  don't 
spend  half  of  it  upon  you,  call  me  a 
Frenchman." 

Fred  had,  in  the  course  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  an  excellent  breukfast  laid 
before  him,  which  was  got  from  a  neigh- 
boring tavern;  and  being  so  fortified 
against  any  suffering  from  hunger,  Lg 
was  pretty  well  prepared  for  the  events 
of  the  day.  About  ten  o'clock  he  was 
conveyed  in  a  hackney-coach  to  Bow 
street,  and  introduced  to  the  sitting 
magistrate,  who  soemed  inclined  to  make 
short  work  of  the  affair. 

Fred  had  fully  expected  that  Peter 
Bayley  would  make  an  appearance  at 
the  court,  and  bring  forward  what  evi- 
dence he  could  against  him.  but  in  that 
he  was  mistaken,  for  Peter  did  not  make 
his  appearance.  It  was  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen who  had  been  attacked  by  Fred 
in  the  early  part  of  his  career,  and  from 
whom  he  had  taken  a  purse  of  money, 
who  appeared  and  distinctly  swore  to 
him.  The  charge  was  so  clear,  that  the 
magistrate  turned  at  once  to  Fred,  and 
said — 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  ? — I  gap 
pose  not  !" 

"  You  seem  in  a  great  hurry,"  said 
Fred  ;  "  surely  it  is  not  dinner-time 
yet?" 

This  produced  a  laugh  in  the  court, 
for  his  worship  was  rather  notorious  for 
knocking  off  the  cases  when  the  hour  for 
his  refreshment  arrived,  althouiih  Fred 
did  not  know  that ;  so  it  was  upon  h'm 
part,  quite  an  accidental  hit. 

"  How  dare  you  address  such  an  ob- 
servation to  the  bench?*'  said  (ho  ma" 
gistrate.  "  Any  one  would  think  that 
you  meant  to  intimate  that  wc  preferred 


FEARLESS    FRED. 


»S 


•ur  dinMeri  to  our  doty."  The  officeri 
and  clerk  of  the  court  shook  their 
heads  with  horror  at  any  such  sup- 
position. Alas  !  what  hypocrisy  there 
is  in  this  world  ! 

"  Well,"  said  Fred,  "perhaps  it's  only 
lunch  that  you  were  thinking  of,  so  I 
won't  detain  you  any  longer;  you  can 
do  just  as  you  please  in  this  matter,  and 
I  don't  taktj  any  merit  to  myself  for  al- 
lowing you  to  do  so,  since  I  know  you 
will  do  it,  whether  I  give  you  leave  or 
not. ' 

"  You  stand  in  a  very  serious  situation, 
indeed,  young  man,"  said  the  magistrate, 
shaking  his  head,  "  and  I  am  sorry  to 
see  that  there  is  in  your  conduct  a  kind 
of  levity,  which  shows  that  you  are  any- 
iWma  but  perfectly  alive  to  tbo  peril  of 
your  8  tuation," 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Fred. 

"  You  stand  committed  for  trial  upon 
the  direst  charge  ;  and  let  me  tell  you, 
that  there  are  several  others  against 
you,  rf  this  should  by  any  accident  fail." 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  You 
ffe  too  good  by  half.  Don't  you  fret 
fourself  about  me,  or  you  won't  be  able 
to  eat  that  lunch  you  seem  so  anxious 
about,  you  know." 

"  Take  him  away,"  said  the  magistrate  ; 
'*  1  perceive  that,  young  as  this  Fearless 
Fred  is,  that  he  is  a  most  hardened 
criminal.  Nothing  shows  a  thoroughly 
depraved  disposition  so  much,  as  a  want 
of  reverence  for  those  in  authority." 

Fred  was  reconducted  to  Newgate  ; 
*nd  as  he  went  in  the  coach  with  the  of- 
ficer, that  personage  said  to  him — 

"  Fearless  Fred,  I  have  been  offered 
a  couple  of  guineas  to  give  you  a  note^ 
but  I  dMi't  think  I  ought  to  do  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  ought,"  said  Fred,  "  for 
you  are  a  good  fellow,  and  you  know 
Utat  it  will  never  be  known  to  any  one 
W'tn  could    irtjurf*  you  in  consocjuencc ; 


and  you  know,  too,  that  I  will  give  you 
a  couple  more  to  give  it  me  at  once." 

''  Well,  1  like  to  do  a  kind  action  when 
I  can  ;  and  as  far  as  1  aui  coocerned, 
Fred,  I  don't  think  you  one  half  so  baJ^ 
as  Peter  would  fain  make  you  out." 

"  Not  a  quarter.  But  how  do  you 
know  that  B;iyley  has  bo«;n  frying  to 
make  me  out  bud  T* 

"  Oh,  he  was  with  the  magistrate  for 
half  an  hour  in  his  private  room,  befor« 
you  were  brouirht  to  the  office." 

"Indeed!  The  villain!  But  I  won't 
vex  myse'f  about  him.  I  expected  from 
the  first  every  hostility  that  could  be 
brought  to  bear  against  me  on  his  ac- 
count ;  so  give  me  the  letter  you  eaj 
you  have." 

The  officer  handed  a  little  note  to 
Fred,  who  eagerly  opened  it,  and  read 
the  following  lines  : 

"  Keep  good  courage ;  J.  is  quite  safe, 
and  in  a  plaoe  of  security.  I  will  do  all 
I  dare  do  to  aid  you ;  and  -svhat  I  dare 
do,  will  be  only  transcended  by  my  ar- 
dent wish  not  to  leave  J.  utterly  friend- 
ess. 

Fred  understood  very  well  that  this 
note  came  from  Blake,  by  the  signature 
J.  to  it,  and  that  by  J.  he  meant  Jane. 
It  was  a  great  consolation  to  him  to  feel 
such  an  assurance  as  the  note  gave  him  ; 
and,  although  he  did  not  think  it  possi- 
ble that  Blake  could  aid  him  in  any 
way,  yet  that  he  would  try  to  do  so  kept 
him  from  uttterly  despairing  of  his  situ- 
ation and  prospects. 

Fred  was  in  some  anxiety  now  lest, 
havin'^  been  duly  committed  for  trial,  ko 
should  not  be  conveyed  to  the  seme  cell, 
for  there  he  had  hidden  the  file  and 
the  pincers,  which  he  regretted  he  had 
not  taken  with  him  ;  but  be  sooon  got 
rid  of  the  apprehension  that  his  place  o^ 
confinement  would  be  changed,  for  he 
was  conducted  direct  to  the  «;»uic  cell, 


so 


FEAHLESS    FRED. 


^ 


md  tt  ere  left  Wlien  h«  was  alone,  he  sat 
down  and  began  to  think  over  his  situa- 
tion and  prospecte.  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
they  were  sufficiently  gloomy  to  have 
struck  terror  into  any  bosom.  The  Old 
Bailey  sessions  would  be  on  in  a  very  few 
days,  and  he  f»;lt  pretty  confident  that  he 
would  be  got  rid  of  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Peter  Bayley  would  take  good  care  that 
BQch  was  the  case. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fred,  as  he  rose,  and  pa- 
ced the  narrow  dimensions  of  his  cell, 
"Yes.  That  villain,  although,  perhaps, 
he  may  not  have  it  in  his  power  to  excr- 
eise  any  direct  influence  over  the  judges 
of  the  land,  can  yet  do  much  to  expedite 
the  fate  of  any  one  against  whom  he  has 
such  an  enmity  as  he  has  against  me. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  it  would  have  been 
wiser  to  temporise  with  him  than  to  defy 
him  as  I  have  done.  Ah,  Jane,  I  do  not 
Hke  to  leave  you  yet." 

"  Save  her,  then,  and  yourself,"  said  a 
voice,  and  then  Fred  found  that  the  cell 
door  had  been  all  but  opened,  and  that 
some  one  was  listening  to  the  thoughts 
^.at  Fred  gave  expression  to  in  words 
from  his  lips  in  what  he  thought  the 
solitude  of  his  cell. 

'•Who  speaks?"  said  Fred;  "surely 
it  is  the  poorest  privilege  that  a  prisoner 
jan  ask  to  be  abiie." 

'•  We  don'i  give  prisoners  privileges," 
said  Peter  Bayley,  stepping  into  the  cell 
at  once,  and  confronting  Fred. 

•'  Oh,  it  is  you,  devil,  is  it  ?" 

"  Yes.  it  is.  You  can  call  me  what 
you  please.  Fearless  Fred  ;  I  al'A'ays  ac- 
cede to  a  man  who  has  his  fetters  on  the 
privilege  of  saying  what  he  likes.  It  is 
to  be  expected  that  his  temper  should 
suflfer  a  little.  If  you  were  to  sneer  a 
little  now,  Fearless  Fred  you  would  feci 
all  the  better  afterwards,  I  am  certain.*' 

"  I   don't   want   your   advice,   Peter 


"  Persecute  you?  Oh,  dear,  no.  That 
is  quite  a  mistake  Fred.  I  rather  love 
you  than  otherwise.  You  are  a  man  af- 
ter ray  own  heart ;  and  now  that  you  ar« 
committed  for  trial,  I  am  hera,  you  see, 
still  to  offer  you  hope." 

"Well?" 

'•  That  cedar-box,  Fred." 

Fred  turned  fall  upon  Peter,  and  look 
cd  him  full  in  the  face. 

'•  I  am  glad  you  are  come,  Bayley,"  hfi 
said,  "  for  I  had  something  to  say  to  you 
that  I  did  not  say  last  night  when  I  sav 
you.  Now,  listen  to  me:  The  cedar 
box,  and  the  papers  tliat  were  in  the  lit- 
tle pocket  under  the  flap  of  your  sad- 
dle  '' 

"  D— — n  !"  said  Bayley.  "  Have 
you  them,  too  ?" 

"  Oil,  yes,  all  safe.  Bat  do  not  lose 
your  temper,  Peter  ;  recollect  that  you 
have  not  fetters  upon  your  limbs,  al- 
though the  time  will  coiue  when  you  will 
have  such,  you  may  be  assured.  But 
don't  put  yourself  in  a  passion.  The 
cedar-box  and  the  papers  that  were  ia 
your  saddle-pocket  are  in  the  possessioa 
of  one  who  will  religiously  keep  thezn 
without  even  looking  at  them." 

"  Ah,  indeed !'' 

"  Unless  he  hears  of  my  death  :  then 
he  will  carefully  examine  them  and  take 
them  10  such  persons  in  authority  aa  he 
may  think  will  act  with  vigor  in  thn 
matters  that  they  relate  to." 

Peter's  very  lips  turned  white. 

'•  You  are  joking,  Fearless  Fred."  he 
said  ,  -'you  are  like  a  child  who  playa 
with  edge  tools ;  you  don't  know  your 
own  danger.''  '■ 

"  Very  good !" 

"I  tell  you,  you  don't  know  whau  (hat 
box  centains— -eh  ?" 

'■  Very  good  !" 

'Villain!    Have  you  dared  to^  ^ead 


Bayley.      '  Why  do  you  persecute  me?"'  documents  that  eannot  couoern  yow  »nd 


FEARLESS   FRED 


3<i 


the  kftowledge  of  which  ia  sufficient  of 
itself  to  make  your  death  a  thing  to  be 
desired  ?" 

"  Go  on,  Peter  !" 

'•  But — but,  Fred,  you  are  yet  young 
— you  are  under  twenty — you  cannot 
pretend  to  mean  but  that  life  is  sweett 
you.  Do  not  tell  me  that  already  you 
have  seen  enough  of  life  to  care  little  for 
it.  I  can  save  you,  if  you  will  let  me  do 
BO.     Ah,  who  comes  here  V* 


CHAPTER  Via 

PETER  BAYLEY    DOES  WHAT  HE  CAN 

FOR  raED. 

The  tone  of  voice  in  which  Peter  Bay- 
ley  expressed  his  surprise  at  the  ap- 
proach of  any  one  at  the  door  of  the  cell, 
was  very  well  acted  indeed,  and  sejmed 
extremely  natural  ;  but  yet  Fred  could 
not  but  have  the  idea  at  the  moment  Miat 
it  was  a  piece  of  acting,  and  he  was  de- 
termined to  be  upon  his  guard  accord- 
ingly. 

The  cell  door  was  flung  open  by  the 
turnkey  rather  ostentatiously,  and  he 
cried  out — 

"  Here's  more  company  for  you,  Fred." 

"I  don't  want  any  more  company." 
•aid  Fred  ;  "  that  which  I  have  is  more 
than  is  agreeable." 

The  Btrattgor  was  a  tall,  bulky,  heavy- 
browed  looking  man,  and  the  moment  he 
oast  eyes  upon  Peter  Bayley,  he  said  — 

"  Who  is  this  ?  Turnkey  !  Hilloa 
tbere  I  1  thought  this  youth,  in  whose 
fate  I  cho?e  to  interest  myself,  was  alone  ? 
Who  is  this  man  ?" 

•^  Why,  sir."  said  the  turnkey,  *^  that 
IS  Mr  Peter  Bayley  " 

"  Peter  Bayley  ?  What,  the  notorious 
Peter  B,.yiev  1' 


"  The  same,  sir."* 

"Then  I  sliall  certainly  Q3«line  re- 
maining here  in  the  presence  of  such  a 
man.  I  will  endeavor  to  call  some  other 
time" 

"  Oh.  don't  mind  me,"  said  Bayley,  "  I 
am  going :  though  I  don't  know  what 
objection  you  can  have  to  me,  seeing 
that  I  never  saw  you  in  my  like  before." 

'•  But,  sir,''  cried  the  portly  man,  "  I 
have  heard  of  you.  and  I  do  not  desire 
to  have  anything  to  say  to  you.  If  you 
are  going,  go  at  once  ;  1  came  here  on  a 
mission  of  kindness  and  benevolence  to 
tiiis  lad  here,  who,  I  presume,  is  Fearless 
Fred,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  be  mixed 
up  in  any  proceedings  of  yours." 

"  Oh,  well,  I'm  off;  but  you  might  be 
civil,  whoever  you  are.  That  you  are  a 
gentleman,  and  have  power  to  do  a  good 
deal  for  Fearless  Fred,  if  you  like.  I  dare 
say ;  but  you  need  not  be  so  uncivil  to 
me  ;  for  all  that,  notwithstanding" 

There  was  something  so  uncommonly 
artificial  in  all  this,  that  Fred  was  much 
too  acute  to  be  deceived  by  it.  The  last 
speech  of  Bayley  was  so  unlike  a  re- 
proach to  the  portly  man.  that  it  at  onco 
was  convincing  to  Fred  that  something 
in  the  shape  of  trickery  was  going  on 

Bayley  walked  out  of  the  cell,  putting 
on  the  look  of  a  very  much  injured  and 
insulted  man,  and  then  tlie  portly  strang- 
er called  out  in  a  voice  of  authcritj — 

'•  Turnkey,  close  the  door,  and  do  not 
let  me  be  Interrupted  in  what  I  hare  to 
say  to  this  unfortunate  young  man." 

"  All's  right  sir,"  said  the  turnkey 
and  he  closed  the  door  of  the  cell;  but 
although  Fred  listened  attentively,  he 
did  not  hear  him  fasten  it,  and  a  strange 
idea  came  over  him  that  Bayley  was  thero 
listening  to  what  should  take  place  be- 
tween him  and  the  portly  man. 

'•  And  so. year  name  is  Fearless  Fri."  •* 
said  th?  nik:^o'.7i  v^s'tor. 


98 


FEARLESS    FRED 


«  Yes,"  said  Fred.     "  What  is  yours  V ' 
**  Oh,  my  lad,  you  must  not  bo  so  in- 
quifiitive      I  hope  to  entitle   myself  to' 
your  gratitude,  and  then  you  shall  know 
•11.     Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  am  a  mem- 
ber of  parliament,  and  that  I  can  be  of 
good  service  to  you.     The  fact  is,  that 
vour  case  came  under    discussion   last 
evening  between  me  and  one  of  the  cabi- 
net ministers,  and  I  said,  that  I  lament- 
ed yery  much   that  a  lad  of  your  age, 
who  I  had  heard  was  educated,  should 
die  the  death  of  a  felou  for  a  few  indis- 
cretions ;  and  his  lordship  agreed  with 
me ;  so  that,  in  fact,  after  a  time,  it  was 
agreed  that  I  should  call  upon  you,  and 
learn  your  entire  history  from  your  own 
lips,  and  then  draw  my  own  conclusions 
from  it." 

"  How  very  kind  !"  said  Fred. 
"  Oh,  no — no.  Not  much.  But  ne- 
ver mind  that.  It  is  a  hard  case  if  we 
who  have  rank,  and  wealth,  and  influence. 
may  not  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  doing 
good  sometimes." 

"  A  very  hard  case  indeed,"  said  Fred 
"  Well — well,  now   for   your  history. 
You  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  who 
and  what  you  are,  and  everything  of  im- 
portance that  has  happened  to  you,  and 
I  wish  to  know  if  you  have  any  friends, 
ijc  if  any  particular  anxieties  press  upon 
vour  mind  in  any  way,  in  order  that  I 
inay  alleviate  them  all.     I  was  sorry  to 
>ec  Putcr  Bayley  with  you,  for  I  am 
nfraid  he  is  a  bad  man." 
*•  So  am  I,"  said  Fred. 
■  Well,  never  mind  him — I  will  pro- 
uctyou  against  him.     Let  me  hear  your 
history." 

'*It  must  be  very  interesting,"  said 
Fred,  "  but  you  shall  hear  it.  My  f^ilh- 
er,  then,  you  must  know,  was  the  hus- 
band of  ray  mother  He  was  a  human 
being,  and  had  his  faults  and  good  quali- 
tiet  like  most  people  j  and   as  for  my 


mother,  they  used  to  say  that  when  sht 

was  young  she  looked  youthful." 
"  Well — well,  pass  over  all  that" 
"  Very  good.  I  was  brought  up 
principally  upon  victuals  and  drink,  and 
had  the  measles  at  the  interesting  ags 
of  five.  On  the  following  morning  after 
the  first   appearance  of  that  melancholy 

disease " 

"  Well,  pass  that." 

'  Very  good.  I  don't  think  anything 
worth  the  telling  since  I  had  the  measles, 
till  they  brought  me  here,  and  accused 
me  of  highway  robbery ;  so  now,  sir,  you 
know  it  all." 

The  stranger  bit  his  lips  and  looked 
angry  ;  but  he  passed  it  ofi"  with  a  smile, 
and  then  said — 

"  Come — come,  Fred,  you  are  a  wit, 
I  see,  and  will  yet  make  a  figure  in  the 
world.  Believe  me,  my  good  young  man, 
that  I  am  very  happy  to  make  your  ac 
l[uaintance,  indeed,  and  that  I  will  do 
verything  I  can  for  you.  But  now  b« 
candid.  Is  there  no  one  dependant  up- 
on you,  towards  whom  I  and  my  lady 
could  extend  the  hand  of  kindness , 
Why.  such  a  good  looking  young  fellow 
as  you  ought  to  be  in  love  by  this  time. 
Is  there  no  charming  and  innocent  young 
creature,  that  the  hand  of  kindness  might 
be  extended  to  1  Only  tell  me  the  par- 
j  ticulars,  and  my  wife  shall  see  to  her  at 
once." 

This  speech  confirmed  Fred  in  the 
suspicion  that  had  been  gaining  upon 
him  from  the  commencement  of  the  in- 
terview, namely,  that  the  portly  individ- 
ual was  no  other  than  the  earl,  who  had 
taken  so  active  a  part,  along  with  his  un- 
principled lady,  in  the  persecutions  of 
Jane.  That  this  rascally  individual  had 
now,  at  the  instigation  of  Peter  Bayley, 
come  to  him  under  the  mask  of  sym-atby 
to  try  to  get  from  him  the  particulars 
that  would  again  enable  hira  to  seiic  up 


FEARLESS    FRED 


t9 


on  Jane,  seemed  but  too  probable.  In- 
dignation prompted  Fred  to  say  some 
thing  of  a  passionate  character,  but  by  a 
strong  effort  be  controlled  the  impulse 
80  to  do. 

He  shook  hia  bead. 

"No — no.  I  am  surprised,  sir,  tbat 
you  sliould  wish  a  person  in  my  situation 
10  fall  in  love." 

"  I  don't  wish  it,  only  I  thought  it  was 
likely  enough,  the  more  especially  as  you 
are  a  well-looking  lad  enough.*' 

"Quite  a  mistake,  sir.  I  have  told 
you  all." 

'•  You  doubt  ray  power  to  be  of  service 
to  you,  That  is  foolish  and  ungcneral, 
Fred.  You  will  never  make  friends  if 
yeu  give  way  to  such  feelings  of  suspic- 
ion. To  reassure  you  at  once,  I  tell  you 
that  I  am  a  nobleman." 

••  Well,  if  I  did'iit  think  so,"  said  Fred. 
"  But  a  word  in  your  ear,  M  r  Nobleman ; 
I  don't  mean  to  tell  you  where  Jane  is, 
for  all  that." 

"  Confusion  !" 

**  Curses  1"  cried  Peter  Bayley,  pop- 
ping his  ugly  bead  in  at  the  door  of  the 
cell. 

"  Ha— ha  I"  laughed  Fred.  "  It  is 
confusion  and  curses  now,  is  it?  WoU 
— weli,  you  see  it  is  a  failure,  both  of  you, 
except  so  far,  ray  lord,  that  I  have  had  a 
good  look  at  you  now  and  am  not  likely, 
to  forget  you  again  in  a  hurry.  You, 
and  your  dear  friend,  Peter  Bayley,  may 
leave  me  now,  with  the  conviction  that 
even  to  death,  I  will  hug  ray  secret  to 
my  bosom."' 

•'  You  shall  die  1"  said  the  earl. 

'•  Perhaps  I  shall ;  but  if  I  do,  there 
will  li^e  up  yet  friends  for  Jane,  who 
will  6j:ht  for  her  as  I  have  done ;  and 
the  day  will  come  when  you.  my  lord, 
and  your  infamous  coantess  and  all  your 
••on  fed  era  tea,  will  be  grovelling  in  the 
du«»" 


*'  Strike  him,  Bayley  !  Knock  him 
down  !"  said  the  carl.    . 

«  Oh,  no,"  said  Bayley,  "but  I  will 
hang  him  in  ten  days  from  now,  my  lord. 
to  a  certainty." 

"  No  you  won't,'*  said  Fred. 
"  TiideeJ,  won  t  I  !     I  tell  you  what 
it  it,  Fred — you    are  a  great    deiil  loo 
clever  to  live  long,  and  I  will  wager  One 
uf  my  ears  that  I  get  you  hanged.'* 
'•  Done  !'    said  Fred. 
'•  Ha,    ha  !'  laughed    Bayley,  faintly. 
"  That  will  do.     Done,  then  ;  a  twist  <d 
the  neck  to  you,  Fred,  or  one  of  my  ears. 
Done  be  it.     I  have  strung  up  many  a 
fellow  for  looking  awry  at  we,  and  it  isn't 
likely  I  am  going  to  fail  now,  is  it,  my 
lord  ?" 

"  Fred,"  said  the  earl,  advancing  in  an 
agitated  manner,  ■'  before  I  leave  you,  I 
make  you  one  proposal." 

"  It  is  useless,  my  lord,"  cried  Bayley, 
"it  will  do  mischief" 

"  No — DO,  Bayley,  surely  he  cannot  be 
so  deaf  to  all  the  advantages  that  I  can 
offer  him.  He  is  human.  Listen  to  me, 
Fred  :  if  you  will  tell  me  where  I  can 
find  Jane,  and  the  little  cedar-box  that 
was  hidden  in  Lolanti's  house,  I  will  not 
only  save  you  from  the  gallows,  but,  I 
will  give  you  a  large  sum  of  money,  and 
you  may  take  Jane  abroad  and  marry 
her  at  once,  if  you  like,  and  I  will  always 
keep  you  buth  above  want  as  long  as  yoo 
live." 

'•  When  I  see  Jane  again,"  said  Fred 
t'l  will  mention  it  to  her." 

"See  her  you  never  will,  unless  yoo 
embrace  my  offer.      Will  you  write  to 
her,  and  act  upon  her  answer  ?" 
''  No."      * 

"No?  Wl)at  do  you  mean  by  thi* 
obstinacy?  You  ought  to  write  to  her 
and  let  her  decide." 

•'  Perhaps  I  r^Tjld,"  said   Fred,  "  bnt 


40 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


The  earl  made  no  reply ;  and  Peter 
Bayley  ;  with  a  look  of  mingled  hatred 
and  anticipativo  triumph,  at  the  prisoner, 
preceded  the  portly  nobleman  in  his  exit 
from  the  cell. 

"Not  caught  in  that  trap!"  muttered 
Fearless  Fred,  as  the  iron  door  closed 
Bpon  his  visitors.  And  now,  as  all  their 
cunning  and  influence  will  of  course  be 
used  to  ensure  my  destruction,  I  must  turn 
my  thoughts  to  my  escape." 

A  few  moments  of  reflection  satisfied 
the  intelligent  tyro  that  his  eflForts  for 
freedom  could  only  be  made  with  safety 
during  the  night.  And  he  therefore 
sighed  for  the  departure  of  the  day. 

*'  In  the  meantime,"  he  murmured,  "  it 
will  be  good  policy  to  relieve  my  wrists 
and  legs  of  these  ugly-looking  manacles. 

No  sooner  said,  than  done.  Drawing 
foith  from  their  hiding-place,  his  file  and 
pincers,  he  applied  himself  to  the  deliglit- 
ful  task  of  ridding  himself  of  his  chains. 
His  progress  was  necessarily  very  slow  ; 
but,  as  he  was  fortunately  uninterrupted 
during  the  day,  he  succeeded  by  night- 
fall in  not  only  filing  off  his  chains,  but 
also  in  removing  one  of  the  seven  iron 
bars  which  belonged  to  the  window  of 
his  cell.  About  ten  o'clock,  he  took  up 
his  iron  bar,  and  commenced  prying  out 
a  large  stone  in  the  wall  opposite  the 
door  of  his  cell.  The  bar  soon  removed 
the  cement  on  the  outer  part,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  thereafter,  he  succeeded  in 
loosening  the  stone,  which  he  was  shortly 
enabled  to  remove  altogether  from  the 
wall.  But  his  work  was  not  yet  finished  ; 
for  as  he  looked  into  the  space  which 
had  been  created  by  the  withdrawal  of 
vlie  stone,  Fred  heard  the  sound  of  an 
iron  instrument  striking  against  the  wall 


on  the  other  side.  Surprised  he  held  hif 
breath  and  listened.  The  noise,  though 
occasionally  interrupted,  still  continued. 
Fred  reflected. 

'•  It  is  possible,"  he  murmured,  "that 
the  sound  is  occasioned  by  some  prison- 
er, who,  like  myself  is  endeavoring  to 
escape !" 

This  surmise  eventually  proved  correct. 
In  an  hour  or  so,  a  stone  was  carefully 
withdrawn  from  the  inner  wall,  and  a 
head  peered  through  the  open  space. 

''  Holloa  !"  cried  Fearless  Fred.  "  Who 
are  you  ?" 

"  I'll  take  the  liberty  of  putting  the 
same  question  to  you !"  was  the  answer, 
although  in  a  somewhat  disconcerted 
voice. 

"  I  am  Fearless  Fred,  the  Uighway. 
man!" 

"And  I  am  Ned  Jacks,  the  House- 
breaker.  What  are  you  up  to  thati  find 
this  hole  in  your  wall  ?" 

"  You  might  easily  answer  that  inter- 
rogatory yourself,"  replied  Fred.  "  When 
a  prisoner  makes  a  space  like  that  in 
either  of  the  walls  of  his  cell,  it  can  be 
but  for  one  object." 

"  True,"  returned  the  housebreaker. 
"  We  understand  each  other.  And  now, 
as  we  have  no  time  to  lose,  I  will  take 
the  liberty  of  paying  you  a  visit." 

So  saying.   Jacks  crept   through  the 
hole  in  the  wall,  into  the  young  highway 
man's  cell. 

"  I  thought,"  he  said,  "  when  I  was 
working  away  at  the  wall,  that  there  wan 
no  one  in  here." 

"  And  I  thought,  when  working  on  ray 
side  of  the  wall  that  there  was  a  passage 
on  the  other  side  of  it,"  said  Fred. 

"  No,"  obseired  Jacks,  "the  passage  ii 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


if 


on  the  other  side  of  yo  ir  door.  And  the 
hest  thing  we  car  do  is  to  reach  it  at 
eTice.** 

"  How  f 

"I'll  show  yoj,'* replied  Jacks,  "when 
I  have  struck  ?  light." 

The  house'jreaker  appeared  to  be  fully 
provided  vith  everything  needful  for  one 
!n  his  '^tosition.  Taking  a  tinder-box 
fron  !iis  breast,  he  struck  a  light,  which 
h«  Applied  to  the  wick  of  a  Small  night 
/amp  which  was  scarcely  larger  than  a 
inan*s  thumb.  Then  running  his  hand 
through  his  thick,  bushy  hair,  he,  to 
Fred's  astonishment,  drew  out  a  skeleton- 
key,  with  which  he  soon  turned  back  the 
lock.  Then,  with  Fred's  small  iron  bar,  he 
forced  out  the  bolts  which  sustained  the 
hinges,  and  in  another  moment  the  door 
«tood  open. 

The  passage  into  which  the  cell  opened, 
wfts  paved  with  flat  flag  stones,  and  Fred 
was  rather  surprised  that  it  was  not 
guarded  by  a  turnkey  ;  but  it  was  not, 
so  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  traverse 
it  to  the  end ;  but  there  they  were 
stopped  by  a  closed  door. 

"Through  this  door,"  said  Jacks,  "is 
i  yard." 

"  What  are  we  to  do  next  ?"  asked 
Fred. 

"  Open  this  door,  to  be  sure.  It  is 
ratlier  clumsy  than  strong,  I  take  it,  and 
I  daresay,  after  all,  it  is  only  locked.  I 
■will  try  it  with  my  skeleton-key, 
allhouirh,  I  am  afraid,  it  is  too  small  for 
the  lock." 

The  housebreaker  made  a  dozen  fruit- 
less attempts  to  catch  tna  lock  with  the 
nk  leton-key,  but  it  as  often  slipped  past 
it.  At  length,  he  roughed  the  key  at  the 
end  with  the  file  a  little,  and  then  it  held, 


and  Fred  could  plainly  hear  it  act  npott 

the  lock. 

The  door  was  open. 

"  This  is  capital "  said  Fred.  ^ 

"  Hush  !"  said  Jacks,  "if  you  have  any 
regard  for  our  safety,  and  blow  out  the 
light.  There  is  a  watchman  in  the 
yard." 

"  The  devil  there  is !"  said  Fred,  in  ft 
whisper,  as  he  at  once  extinguished  the 
light. 

"  Stand,  where  you  are  a  little,  while 
I  ascertain  at  what  part  of  his  round  ho 
is." 

They  bbth  stood  up  against  the  door 
which  was  painted  of  a  dark  color,  and 
there,  in  the  most  profound  stillness,  they 
waited  for  the  watchman  to  come  round, 
and  in  \X\^  course  of  a  few  minutes  they 
heard  his  footsteps,  and  his  monotonous 
cry  of — 

"  All's  right.— All's  right." 

The  cry  was  forced  every  now  and' 
then  to  be  uttered  by  the  watch  in  the 
wards  of  Newgate,  and  in  such  a  tone, 
too,  that  it  might  be  audible  from  yard 
to  yard,  so -that  those  who  were  upon 
the  night- duty  could  reply  to  each 
other. 

The  watch  had  a  lantern,  but  he  let  it 
dangle  at  his  waist,  and  walked  on  with- 
out taking  any  particular  notice,  as  it 
was  his  duty  undoubtedly  to  do,  of  the 
doors  and  windows  upon  his  beat. 

"  We  are  safe,"  whispered  Jacks.  "  He 
has  gone  by." 

Now  me  must  try  to  get  over  the 
wall ;  and  yet  there  is  a  door,  which,  if 
we  could  only  force,  wonld  lead  usinto  the 
chapel,  and  from  the  roof  of  that  we 
could  all  but  step  ou  to  a  portion  of  (ht 


4t 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


walL  and  so  let  ourselves  down  in  a  very 
obscure  part  of  Newgate  Market. 

"  That  would  be  much  tbe  best   plan. 


Fred  took  tho  proffered  knife  in  bW 
lecce ;  and  with  immense  speed  thejr 
made   their   way   towards   the   cbapel, 


Mr.  Jacks,  if  it  could  but  be  carried  out."   which  Jacks  contrived  to  enter  by  pick- 


*•  CoiiK!  on  then.  We  must  be  quick 
about  it,  or  we  shall  have  the  watch  on 
his  romvd  again." 

Fearless  Fred  was  but  too  willing,  and 
he  followed  the  housebreaker  with  alac- 
rity. 

From  the  way  in  which  Jacks  moved, 
it  was  quite  evident  that  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  interior  of  Newgate, 
a  knowledge  which  could  only  have  been 
obtained  by  a  frequent  incarceration 
within  its  walls. 

They  soon  reached  a  rather  obscure 
corner  of  the  prison  wall. 

"  Is  it  fast  ?" 

"  Yes.  No,  by  heaven !  it  is  not, 
except  upon  this  side.  I  have  it  open 
already  !" 

"  And  will  it  lead  us  to  libertv  ?** 

"  I  hope  so.  It  conducts  to  the  chapel, 
as  I  told  you,  and  from  the  gallery  of 
that  building  there  will  be  no  difficulty 
in  getting  on  to  the  roof,  and  from  the 
roof  there  will  he  no  difficulty  in  getting 
to  the  bit  of  outer  wall  that  I  spoke  to 
you  of,  and  so  letting  ourselves  carefully 
down  into  the  obscure  court  by  Newgate 
Market.  Keep  close  to  me.  I  almost 
think  now  that  we  may  consider  we  have 
escaped.     But  have  you  any  arms  ?" 

"  None." 

"  Take  this  knife,  then.  If  the  worst 
should  come  to  the  worst,  and  we  hap- 
pen to  encounter  any  one,  it  will  serve 
•o  defend  you.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  fight 
*  hundred  men  rather  than  be  dragged 
back  to  that  abominable  cell,  which  has 
all  but  driven  me  mad  during  the  time 
[  have  been  in  it.** 


ing  the  lock  of  another  door,  and  they 
found  themselves  in  the  still  solitude  of 
that  portion  of  Newgate.  They  took 
the  precaution  to  close  the  door  after 
them,  and  to  shoot  a  couple  of  bolts  in- 
to their  sockets,  so  that  any  surprise 
would  be  not  so  likely  to  occur  to  their 
discomforture. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CONTAINS      SOMETHIKO        MORK        ABOUT 
TUB    CEDAR-BOX. 

The  gallery  of  the  chapel  of  Newgate 
was  reached  by  a  winding  staircase  of 
about  forty  steps,  and  they  soon  ascend- 
ed them.  Then  Jacks  led  the  way  to  » 
window,  which  he  very  carefully  opened. 

"  Mr.  Fred,"  he  said,  "  a  little  dexterity- 
will  be  required  here." 

"  In  what  respect  ?" 

"  Why,  the  roof,  or  rather  the  part  of 
it  which  we  want  to  get  on,  which  is,  in 
truth,  a  gutter  connected  with  it,  is  just 
above  the  window." 

"  Well,  there  is  not  much  difficulty." 

"  No,  to  a  cool  head  and  steady  hand 
there  is  none  ;  but  you  will  have  to  stand 
on  the  window-sill  and  lay  hold  of  a  por* 
tion  of  the  gutter,  and  so  raise  yourself 
up  with  the  aid  of  your  hands  only." 

"  I  think  I  can  do  that." 

"  Good.  I  know  I  can — that  is  to  say 
if  I  have  not  been  too  much  enfeebled 
by  my  three  months  sojourn  in  the  cell. 
But  I  will  try  it.    Now  Mr.  Fred,  takt 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


four  choice :  will  you   go  first  or  shall 

ir 

"  As  you  say  you  are  a  little  enfeebled 
or  dread  that  you  may  be  so,  I  will  go 
first,  and  wheB  I  am  above  I  cau  lend  you 
a  hand  ;  and  if  once  I  have  a  hold  of 
you,  you  may  depend  that  I  shall  not  let 
you  fall  again." 

*'  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Fred,  so  I 
will  follow  you." 

Upon  this,  Fred,  without  any  hesita- 
tion, mounted  upon  the  window-sill  out- 
side. The  least  false  step  would  have 
precipitated  him  some  sixty  feet  to  one 
of  the  inner  courts  of  the  prison  ;  but  he 
took  good  care  that  ho  would  not  make 
a  false  step. 

It  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  reach 
the  roof  from  where  he  was  ;  but  he  did 
contrive  to  get  a  good  clutch  of  it,  and 
then  he  drew  himself  up  by  his  hands. 
In  struggling  with  his  feet  for  a  foothold, 
he  broke  a  pane  of  glass  but  probably  by 
•o  doing  he  saved  himself  from  a  fall 
for  it  enabled  him  to  place  his  foot, 
lightly  on  the  window  frame,  and  in 
another  moment  he  was  on  the  roof  in 
Rafety.     Jacks  soon  followed. 

"  Which  way  are  we  to  go  now  ?" 
$a.\i  Fred.  "  You  had  better  lead  the 
route." 

"  I  will.  Crouch  down  and  follow 
me." 

After  crawling  the  whole  length  of 
the  gutter,  they  turned  a  corner,  and 
vhen,  by  the  dim  night  light,  Fred  saw 
that  the  outer  wall  of  a  portion  of  New- 
gate was  just  within  arms-length  of  them, 
and  he  could  not  help  exclaiming — 

"  We  are  safe  !"  • 

"  I  think  we  are,"  said  Jacks.  "  1 
have  got  a  rope,  with  the  strong  hook  at 
the  end  of  it,  round  my  waist." 


"  That's  all  right,  and  if  this  iron-work 
at  the  top  of  the  wall  answers  no  other 
good  purpose,  it  will  help  us  to  bid  adieu 
to  Newgate.  Ah,  you  must  be  carefd 
of  it.  Jacks." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  A  portion  of  it  revolves,  I  find." 

"  That  is  well  thought  of.  We  raUBt 
take  care  where  we  fasten  our  cord,  or  it 
is  a  case  of  broken  ne('k  with  us  both,  aa 
sure  as  we  are  here,  Fred." 

It  certainly  did  require  care  to  fix  the 
rope  to  a  portion  of  the  iron-work  that 
WIS  a  fixture  ;  but  when  they  knew  what 
they  had  to  provide  against,  that  was  tol- 
erably easily  done,  and  both  Fred  and 
Jacks  felt  satisfied  that  the  rope  was  as 
secure  aa  if  it  had  been  fixed  to  St. 
Paul's. 

"Will  you  go  first?"  said  Fred. 

"No,  Mr.  Fred,  you  are  the  lightest 
weight,  I  take  it,  by  a  good  stone  and  a 
half,  so  you  go  first.  The  rope  is  sure 
to  stand  you,  but  if  I  were  to  go  first 
and  it  were  to  break  with  me,  you  would 
be  in  a  very  awkward  situation  indeed  ; 
so  you  go  first,  and  I  will  take  my  chance 
afterwards." 

"  That  is  generous  of  you,  Jacks." 

"Not  at  all.  I  do  ail  I  can  for  the 
best  for  both  of  us.  I  want  us  to  get 
clear  away  together,  and  if  we  can't,  J 
don't  wan't  to  sacrifice  you  and  do  my- 
self no  gojd  at  the  same  time.  If  I  break 
my  neck,  it  is  better  that  you  should  be 
in  Newgate  Market  than  on  the  roof  of 
this  chapel,  I  rather  think." 

"  Decidedly  so." 

"  Then  be  oH  at  once.  I  will  steady 
the  rope  as  well  as  I  can  from  the  top 
here,  and  when  you  get  to  the  bottom, 
you  can  steady  it  for  me  from  below, 
you  know." 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


•*  I  can  and  will." 

It  was  rather  an  awkward  thing  to 
•cramble  over  the  iron- work  on  the  top 
of  the  wall,  and  in  so  doing,  Fearless 
Fred  tore  both  his  clothes  and  bis  skin 
in  several  places ;  but  at  length  he  did 
get  clear  of  it,  and  got  a  fair  hold  of  the 
rope,  which  was  thick  and  strong,  so  that 
he  felt  no  fear  about  its  carrying  him  in 
perfect  saf<;ty. 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  long  enough,  Mr. 
Jacks." 

"  Quite — quite.  You  may  rely  upon 
that." 

"Then  down  I  go.     Goodbye." 

Fred  was  as  active  as  a  cat  in  any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  climbing,  so  that 
to  let  himself  down  by  the  rope  was  to 
him  a  matter  of  not  the  least  difSculty  ; 
only  when  he  got  to  the  end  of  it,  he 
was  a  little  alarmed  to  find  that  he  did 
not  touch  the  ground  with  his  feet,  and 
it  was  too  dark  for  him  to  see  how  far 
h<5  was  from  it ;  so  it  was  rather  a  ner- 
vous thing  to  let  go  the  rope  in  such  a 
state  of  uncertainty  as  to  how  far  he  had 
to  drop. 

He  hesitated  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
rlien  made  up  his  mind  to  risk  it,  and 
shutting  his  eyes,  he  let  gb  of  the  rope. 

Plump  he  came  upon  his  back,  for  he 
w.as  not  above  six  inches  from  the 
ijrouhd,  after  all. 

A  sickening  sensation  came  over  him 
.at  the  moment  of  falling,  for  he  knew 
not  but  that  might  be  his  last  moment 
jti  this  world;  but  the  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing was  immense  when  he  did  recover 
from  that  supposition.  lie  felt  as  if  a 
new  life  had  been  given  to  him. 

"  All's  right,"  he  whispered  to  Jacks, 
hut  h\h  companion  was  too  far  off  to  bear 


him,  and  kept  shaking  at  the  rope  ta 
ascertain  that  all  was  well  below,  where 
upon  Fred  tightened  the  rope,  and  said 
in  a  much  louder  voice,  so  that  Jacki 
could  not  fail  to  hear  him  if  be  were  at 
all  listening — 

"  Come  on,  now.  All's  right — all's 
right." 

Upon  this,  Mr.  Jacks  ventured  to  com- 
meace  the  descent,  which  so  long  as  the 
rope  held  together,  and  did  not  come 
loose  from  the  iron-work  at  the  top  of  the 
wall,  was  a  matter  attended  by  no  dan- 
ger whatever. 

In  half  a  minute  Jacks  was  safely  by 
the  side  of  Fred,  and  then  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  saying — 

"  Thank  God,  that  is  over." 

"It  is  a  good  job  done  I  admit,"  said 
Fred  ;  "  but  it  was  no  very  diflScult  en- 
terprise, after  all.  Where  shall  we  go  to 
now  ?" 

I  wish,  Mr.  Fred,  you  would  decide 
that  question,  but  at  all  events,  let  us  get 
as  far  from  this  neighborhood  as  we  can 
before  daylight." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  first  thing  to  do. 
Come  on." 

They  went  at  a  quick  pace  through  a 
portion  of  Newgate  Market,  which  was 
then  a  much  more  miserable  place  than 
it  is  now,  and  had  some  nooks  and  cor- 
ners in  it  that  were  truly  dreadful,  and 
the  haunts  of  the  most  outrageous  vice. 

They  were  quickly  in  Newgate  Street, 
however,  and  then  taking  their  route 
down  Snow  Hill,  they  almost  ran  «p 
Uolborn,  although  they  did  not  like  to 
make  very  great  speed,  for  fear  of  at- 
tracting the  attention  and  suspicion  of 
the  watch. 

As  thej  passed  St.  Andrew's  chuxoh. 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


41 


the  clock  struck  four,  and  even  then  a 
dim  light  was  beginning  to  creep  orer 
the  eastern  sky. 

"  We  must  get  out  of  the  town,  if  we 
can,"  said  Fred,  "  before  daylight,  and  I 
don't  know  that  we  can  do  better  than 
go  on  up  this  road." 

"  Who  put  you  in  Newgate  t"  asked 
the  housfcbi  eaker,  as  they  proceeded 
along. 

•*  Peter  Bayley,  replied  Fred. 

"What!"  exciiiiined  Jacks,  with  an 
k\T  of  surprise,  "  is  he  an  enemy  of  yours, 
too?" 

"  Yes — a  relentless  one.  But  why  do 
you  ask?     Did  lie  jug  you  ?" 

"  Aye.  I  foolishly  refused  to  give 
hira  half  of  my  earnings,  and  he  pulled 
tne.  I  offered  him  a  quarter,  aye,  even 
a  third;  but  nothing  less  than  katf 
wtiuld  satisfy  him.  As  I  declined  ac- 
cording to  this  exorbitant  demand,  he 
had  me  arrested,  and  conveyed  to  his 
own  house,  where  he  kept  me  seven  or 
eight  weeks,  in  hope  of  bringing  me  to 
terms,  but  finding  my  obstinacy  equal  to 
his  own,  he  threw  me  into  Newgate." 

"  He  is  not  one  to  stop  at  trifles," 
observed  Fred. 

"  Not  he.  And  yet,  while  at  his  house, 
I  had  rare  opportunities  of  studying  his 
character.  For  all  his  power,  he  has  his 
fear-spells  as  well  as  other  men.  For 
instance,  you  gave  him  considerable 
anxiety." 

"If"  demanded  Fearless  Fred,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"You.  You  have  or  had  a  cedar 
box,  which  is  of  some  importance  to  him. 
The  loss  of  it  appeared,  at  times,  to  drive 
him  almost  crn/y." 

♦* Indeed?    This  fellow  ia  not  what  1 


took  hira  for !"  muttered  Fred,  to  him« 
self.  "I  must  keep  an  eye  on  him  I 
And  so,"  he  said,  aloud,  "Peter  Bayley 
was  in  trouble  about  the  cedar  box — 
eh?" 

"  Yes,  he  used  to  walk  up  and  down 
his  room,  mutterino:  and  cursing  about 
it  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner 
lie  evidently  sets  great  value  upon  it, 
and  all  I  can  say  is,  that  if  you  have 
got  it,  you  had  better  take  care  of  it." 

"If,"  said  Fred,  "  I  had  any  box,  cedar 
or  otherwise,  that  I  thought  Bayley  \va» 
very  anxious  about,  I  should  not  feel  in- 
clined to  make  it  a  present  to  him." 

"  It's  the  contents,  I  rather  think,  and 
not  the  box,  that  Bnyley  wants." 

"No  doubt." 

"  And  so  again,  I  advise  you  to  keep 
it  close." 

"  If  I  had  it  I  would,"  said  Fred. 

"Then  you  have  it  not?" 

"  If  I  had,  I  should  hardly  feel  in- 
clined to  say  so  ;  but  did  not  Peter  say 
what  was  in  it  that  made  it  so  valuable 
to  him  ?" 

"Why  no — papers  only,  that  was  all." 

"Oh,  well,  let  him  look  after  his  own 
course,  and  I  will  look  after  mine.  All 
we  have  to  do,  Mr.  Jacks,  is  to  escape  to 
some  place  of  safety,  and  then  we  will 
hid  each  other  good-bye,  and  wish  each 
other  good  fortune." 

"  So  we  will,"  said  Jacks,  "  so  we  will, 
Mr.  Fred." 

From  the  moment  that  Jacks  had  be- 
gun to  talk  about  the  cedar-box,  Fred 
had  been  upon  his  guard.  It  would  not 
be  a  fact  if  we  were  to  say  that  evsn  be- 
fore that  he  had  had  no  suspicions  that 
something  aniis3  was  going  on,  and  that 
Jacks  was  playing  a  par*. ;  but  now  thera 


40 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


came  over  his  mind  a  feeling  of  confir- 
mation of  such  a  fact  that  be  could  not 
any  longer  resist  or  do  battle  witb. 

As  yet,  however,  .'ill  was  certainly 
nothing  but  suspicion,  and  that  too  of 
the  most  vague  and  uncertain  character, 
«o  that  Fred  determined  to  act  with 
great  caution  in  the  affair. 

One  thing  however,  he  quite  made  up 
his  mind  to,  and  that  was  by  no  means 
to  take  Mr.  Jacks  to  where  Jane  was  con- 
cealed with  the  cedar-box  and  Blake. 
,"  Now,  Mr.  Fred,"  said  Jacks,  when 
they  got  to  tho  corner  of  Tottenham 
Court  Road,  "  this  will  lead  us  to  the 
north  of  London  if  we  pursue  that  track, 
and  I  must  throw  myself  entirely  upon 
you  to  say  if  you  have  any  special  means 
of  securing  our  safety  in  that  direction." 

"  No,  Mr.  Jacks,  I  have  not." 

*•  Well,  then,  there  is  no  occadon  to 
go  that  road.  What  do  you  say  to  go- 
ing West-end,  now  ?" 

Fearless  Fred  was  silent  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  Jacks,  by  the  early  morning 
light,  looked  intently  in  his  face,  as  he 
Baid. — 

**  You  seem  vexed  about  something. 
What  is  it,  Mr.  Fred  ?  We  are  now 
friends  and  companions,  and  it  is  as  well 
that  we  share  all  each  other's  joys  and 
•orrows.** 

"Why^  Mr.  Jacks,  I  am  seriously 
thinking  about  the  best  course  for  us  to 
pursue  for  our  mutual  safety,  and  I  aip 
quite  convinced  that  we  had  better  at 
once  separate." 

"Separate?" 

"  Yes,  I  feel  certain  that  we  had  bet- 
ter do  so  for  several  reasons,  however 
heart- rending  it  may  be  for  us  to  bid 
kdieu  to  each  other." 


Jacks  would  have  needed  to  bea  macb 
less  acute  man  than  he  was,  not  to  catch 
the  ironical  character  of  the  tone  in 
which  Fred  uttered  these  few  words.  Ha 
made  no  remark  however  upon  that  head, 
and  Fred  continued — 

"  Our  escape  will  soon  be  found  out, 
Mr.  Jacks,  and  one  of  the  first  facts  of 
any  importance  connected  with  that  dis- 
covery will  be  that  we  are  together." 

"  True— true  T 

"  Well  then,  of  course  there  will  be  an 
accurate  description  of  us  given  to  all 
the  police,  and  we  shall  be  posted  in  tho 
hue-and-cry  at  once,  as  two  persons  of 
such  a  description;  but  if  we  separate, 
we  decrease  our  danger,  and  by  no 
means  draw  upon  us  individually  so  much 
observation." 

"  Well,  perhaps  so." 

"  Now,  this  is  a  good  road  up  Oxford 
Street  to  the  west ;  here  is  another  up 
Tottenham  Court  Road  to  the  north. 
You  take  one  and  I  will  take  the  other, 
and  you  may  please  yourself  which  you 
choose,  for  it  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
possible  indifference  to  me." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  By-the-by, 
though,  Mr.  Fred,  now  I  come  to  think 
of  it,  Peter  Bayley,  in  addition  to  raving 
about  that  cedar-box,  used  to  say  som©* 
thing,  too,  about  a  young  lady  that  he 
took  it  into  his  head  was  with  you,  and 
whom  he  wanted  to  get  hold  of  very 
much." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Fred.  "  Which  is  your 
road,  west  or  north  ?" 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Fred,"  for  T  do 
not  quite  agree  with  you  in  the  propri©* 
ty  of  parting  company  so  soon.  We 
may  be  attacked  in  the  streets,  and  then 
I  shall  be  able  to  strike  a  blow  in  jrouf 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


4T 


defence.  If  w©  were  further  off  in  the 
country,  I  should  say  part  by  all  means  ; 
but  now,  it  would  convey  to  my  mind 
the  feeling  as  if  I  had  deserted  you." 

"Come  on,  then.'* 

Fred  did  not  feel  inclined  in  the  streets 
of  London  to  get  up  a  positive  quarrel 
with  Mr.  Jacks,  for  he  knew  that  a  slight 
call,  provided  he  was  inclined  to  play  the 
traitor  would  bring  the  watch  about 
them  ;  so  he  made  up  his  mind  to  tem- 
porise with  the  fellow  yet  awhile. 

With  this  understanding,  they  jogged 
on  pretty  well  together  up  Tottenham- 
court-road,  and  Jacks  made  no  further 
allusion,  cither  to  the  cedar-box,  or  to 
Jane,  for  he  probably  saw  that  now 
Fred  was  thorouglily  upon  his  guard,  it 
would  be  no  use  to  do  so. 

The  morning  came  on  with  rapid 
strides ;  and  by  the  time  they  reached 
the  then  village-like  suburb  of  Camden 
Town,  it  was  quite  light  enough  to  see 
every  object  with  the  most  perfect  dis- 
tinctness. ^  Then  there  was  a  little  hesi- 
tation as  to  whether  they  should  go  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left ;  but  after  some  time, 
Jacks  inclined  to  the  left,  so  that  they 
could  get  through  Kentish  Town  to 
Ilighgate. 

The  countenance  of  Jacks  had  a  mere 
sinister  and  strange  expression  each  min- 
ute, now,  as  they  went  on  ;  and  finally 
they  reached  Ilighgate  Rise,  and  entered 
upon  the  village. 

"  I  am  getting  rather  tired,"  said 
Jacks. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  said  Fred. 
*  What  is  fatigue  in  comparison  to  New- 
gate f     On — on,  my  friend." 

^  And  I  am  hungry  decidedly,  and 
thirsty." 


"  Never  mind  hunger  and  thirst,"  baid 
Fred.  "Come  en,  and  think  of  New* 
gate." 

Fred  was  well-pleased  to  find  that 
Jacks  was  getting  rather  tired  of  trudging 
on  so  many  miles,  and  ho  thought  that 
if  he  could  tire  him  out  that  way  it 
would  do  capitally. 

"I  am  determined  to  get  as  far  away 
as  possible,"  added  Fred.  "  Finchley  is 
right  along  this  way." 

"  Finchley  ?  But  you  don't  mean  to 
walk  all  that  distance  ?" 

*'  Yes,  I  do  ;  and  beyond  Finchley  wo 
shall  come  to  Barnet,  which  is  a  very  nice 
old  town ;  and  there  is  Uadley  then ; 
and  then  by  walking  on  we  shall  come 
to " 

"  Oh,  stop,  stop.  You  don't  suppose 
I  am  a  machine,  do  you,  that  can  go  on, 
on,  on,  without  resting?" 

"  But  I  am  not  tired." 

"  Very  likely  ;  you  are  younger  than 
I  am  by  a  considerable  deal,  and  tkat 
makes  a  difference.  Ilere  we  have 
walked  at  a  good  pace  some  six  miles 
already,  and  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  cannot 
keep  it  up  much  longer." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Jacks,  it  comes  justtothia, 
then — I  can,  and  will  walk  on  for  the 
next  twenty  miles." 

"  Twenty  ?" 

"  Twenty.  I  know  my  own  powers, 
and  what  I  can  do,  and  what  I  can't ; 
and  60  I  advise  you  to  come  on  with  me 
as  long  as  you  can,  and  when  you  feel 
certain  that  you  cannot  conveniently 
come  any  further,  it  will  be  then  time  for 
us  to  say  good-bye  to  each  other,  and 
part." 

**  The  devil  it  will !    I  have  hardly  • 


49 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


leg  to  stand  oq  now.  Where  are  we  at 
this  moment  ?" 

"Just  til  rough  nighgate,  and  yonder 
is  Fiiichley." 

Fred  stopped  and  listened. 

'•  What  is  that  I  hear  upon  the  road 
behind  us?"  he  said.     **Is  it  a  horse  ?" 

•'  Hardly — and  yet  why  not  ?  This 
is  a  populous  enoiigh  road,  and  there 
iaay  well  be  a  horse  upon  it,  and  no 
barm  to  us." 

The  clatter  of  a  horse's  feet  at  a  trot, 
bat  not  a  very  sharp  one,  came  plainly 
enough  upon  their  ears,  and  presently 
a  mounted  ra.m  passed  them,  with- 
out taking  the  smallest  notice  of  them. 
This  man  was  dressed  like  a  clergy- 
man, and  had  very  gray  hair,  almost 
white,  which  floated  rather  thi'kly 
from  under  his  broad -brimmed  hat. — 
The  horse  he  rode  was  a  J5rst-rate 
one. 

"  There,  you  see,"  said  Jacks,  "  he  is 
no  enemy  of  ours." 

♦'  I  see  he  is  not.     Come  on.  Jacks." 

Jacks  looked  at  Fred  for  a  moment  or 
two,  and  then  gathering  all  his  strength 
and  perseverance  to  his  aid,  he  said  — 

"  Well,  I  will  go  on  till  I  drop.  Come 
on." 

Fred  bad  certainly  been  in  the  hope 
that  he  should  get  rid  of  Mr.  Jacks  now, 
for  the  company  of  that  gentleman  be- 
came each  moment  more  and  more  ob- 
jectionable to  hrm  and  suspicious.  In- 
deed, the  feelings  of  Fred  towards  Jacks 
had  got  a  good  way  past  mere  suspicion. 
He  might  truly  say,  that  now  he  khiew 
that  Jacks  was  no  better  than  he  should 
be,  indeed,  it  would  have  been  an  excel- 
lent thing  if  Jacks  hv\  only  been  half 
•8  good  as  he  should  have  b^eii. 


How  to  get  rid  of  a  man,  though,  wn« 
certainly  had  helped  him  out  of  New- 
gate, and  without  whose  assistance  be 
could  not  have  possibly  escaped — for  by 
the  trouble  that  there  was  even  with  Mr. 
Jack's  help.  Fred  could  estimate  what 
it  would  have  been  without  him — was  a 
very  difficult  proposition  indeed. 

The  determination  with  which  Jacks 
walked  on  now,  keeping  tolerable  pace 
with  Fearless  Fred,  was  truly  ludicrous. 
That  he  was  terribly  tired,  there  could 
be  no  doubt  in  the  world,  but  that  he 
fully  meant  to  keep  up  as  long  as  he  pos- 
sibly could,  there  could  be  likewise  no 
doubt,  and  Fred  now  began  to  ask  him- 
self how  far  he  really  ought  to  think  of  ta- 
king his  companion  without  bringing  af- 
fairs between  them  to  something  like  a 
crisis.  There  was  another  subject,  too, 
that  required  Fred  to  think  about,  and 
that  was,  considering  that  Jacks  was  an 
enem)',  and  had  been  set  ta  do  all  that 
he  had  done  by  no  less  a  personage  than 
Bayley  himself,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
getting  into  his,  Fred's,  confidence,  and 
worming  out  of  his  simplicity  his  im- 
poriant  secrets,  in  what  way  was  it  in- 
tended to  dispose  of  him,  Fred,  after 
that  object  should  be  attained  ? — for,  al- 
though by  the  determination  of  Fred,  it 
would  not  be  attained,  yet  there  could 
be  no  doubt  that  some  regular  course  of 
action  had  been  laid  down  for  Jacks. 

Of  one  thing  only,  Fred  felt  pretty 
sure,  and  that  was,  that  Jacks  would  nci 
attack  him  personally.  Fatigued  as  he 
was,  and  if  he  had  not  been,  the  strug 
gle  being  one  of  a  doubtful  character,  il 
was  quite  out  of  the  question  to  suppose 
for  a  moment  that  Jacks  would  risk  il. 

So  far,  then,  Fred   fait  a  degree  ol 


FEAKLESS  FRED. 


49 


•afety  that  made  him  capable  of  enjoy- 
ing the  evident  discomfiture  and  fatigue 
of  his  comjianion  as  they  together  trudg 
ed  along  the  road. 

A  silence  of  some  five  miles'  distance 
had  now  ensued,  and  it  was  broken  by 
Jacks,  who  said,  in  a  low,  persuasive  kind 
of  tone — 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Fred,  what  would  not  Peter 
give  to  nab  us  both  now  ?" 

'*  A  good  round  sum,  no  doubt,"  re- 
plied Fred. 

"  Ah,  in  truth,  that  he  would.  By- 
the-by,  though.  Mr.  Fred,  I  was  very 
much  surprised  to  find  that  Bayley  was 
so  dreadfully  superstitious  as  he  really 
appears  to  be." 

"  Is  he  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  to  an  excess.  lie  will  have 
it  that  he  has  seen  the  ghost  of  one,  Lol 
— Lol — dear  me,  I  forget  the  name."    ' 

"  Indeed,"  said   Fred  ;    "  perhaps    its 

uiiypop  r 

"  Ob,  no — no.  It  wasn't  that.  But, 
i:ome,  you  are  only  joking.  I  recollect 
— it  was  Lolauti — yes,  LoJanti  was  the 
fellow's  name.  Well,  he  would  have  it 
that  he  saw  his  ghost,  and  what  mftkes 
me  think  of  it  and  mention  it  now,  was, 
that  somo  of  Bayley's  men  would  have 
it  that  it  was  no  such  thing,  but  that 
you  had  played  Peter  some  trick.  Ha  ? 
ha!" 

"  Ha !  ha !"  laughed  Fred. 

"  What,  you  did,  then  ?" 

"  I !  Why,  what  could  possibly  put 
that  into  your  head,  Mr.  Jacks  ?" 

"  You  laughed,  and  so  I  thought  that 
you  meant  that  to  signify  that  you  had 
played  old  Peter  a  trick,  that  was  what 
iDAde  me  think  so." 

**  I  only  laughed,  Mr.  Jacks,  b«causo 


you   did.     I  saw    no  joke,  bu.t  out  of 
courtesy  to  you  I  laughed.     You   can 

admire  my  motive,  I  hope,  even   at  the 

expense  of  my  sincerity  ;    but  I   won't 

laugh  again,  if  you  would  rather  that  I 

should  not." 

Jacks  bit  his  lip  with  vexation.  Theie 
was  no  making  anything  of  Fred,  and 
as  that  truth  gathered  strength  each  mo- 
ment in  his  mind,  he  began  more  and 
more  to  flag  in  the  walking  business. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Fred,  not  so 
fast,"  he  said.  "I  can  walk,  but  not  at 
the  rate  you  seem  to  be  inclined  to  go 
at." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jacks,^but  if  I  go 
slow  I  shall  tire  myself.  It  is  a  peculiari- 
ty with  me  that  the  further  I  walk  the 
fiister  I  walk  ;  and  I  tell  you  ngain,  that 
I  should  think  it  an  evil  thing  to  take 
you  an  inch  beyond  your  powers.  There 
is  a  place  called  Iliiddesdon,  in  Ilertford- 
sliire,  that  I  think  of  going  to." 

Jacks  came  to  a  dead  stop. 

"  The  devil  you  do  I" 

"  Yes,  and  as  we  shall  take  that  road 
which  is  to  the  left  of  here,  I  don't  know 
but  what,  after  all,  it  will  be  the  wisest 
thing  we  can  do  to  push  on  to  St.  Al- 
bans. It  is  not  very  far,  and  there,  as  it 
is  a  tolerably  populous  place,  we  can  es- 
cape every  observation,  I  dare  say,  for  a 
time.     But  who  comes  here  ?" 

"  Why,  as  I'm  a  sinner,"  said  Jacks, 
"  it's  the  same  clergyman  who  passed  U9 
upon  the  road  before.  You  may  de- 
pend, Fred,  that  he  has  been  to  pay  a 
visit,  and  is  now  on  hii  return.  What  a 
nice  looking  old  gentleman  he  is,  to  be 
sure.     Is  he  not  ?" 

"  Oh,  very ;  quite  fatherly,"  said 
Fred. 


50 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


The  clergyman  trotted  on  with  the 
utmost  gr.nvity.  and  when  he  got  close 
to  Fred  and  Mr.  Jacks,  he  said,  in  a  voice 
of  great  suavity — 

"  Can  you  tell  ^e  the  time  of  day  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Jacks  suddenly,  before 
Fred  could  open  his  watch  to  reply,  "  I 
am  sorry,  sir,  that  we  don't  know  the 
time  of  day  yet." 

"  Thank  you  all  the  same,"  said  the 
clergyman. 

With  quite  a  benign  smile,  such  as 
Borae  fat  pluralist  might  use  upon  being 
inducted  to  another  living  that  he  never 
intended  to  attend  to,  except  so  far  as 
to  pocket  the  income,  the  clergyman 
rode  on. 

To  Fred's  apprehension,  there  was  a 
significance  about  the  question  and  an- 
swer botween  the  clergyman  and  Jacks 
that  set  all  his  thoughts  in  a  whirl ;  and 
at  last  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  road  was  watched,  and  that,  in  point 
of  fact,  he  was  only  let  go  a  little  way, 
something  after  the  fashion  that  a  cat 
lets  go  a  mouse,  merely  for  the  pleasure 
of  making  a  dash  at  it  again,  and  enjoy- 
ing the  gratification  of  a  fresh  capture. 
Of  course,  the  object  was  to  get  from 
Fred  the  particulars  of  the  affairs  con- 
cerning which  Peter  Bayley  was  in  such 
an  agony  of  suspense  and  apprehension, 
and  then  he  would  be  apprehended 
again,  and  taken  back  to  Newgate. 

A  more  cunning  device  than  all  this, 
upon  the  part  of  Bayley  for  the  purpose 
^f  accomplishing  his  object,  without  at 
*he  same  time  spoiling  his  revenge, 
could  not  very  well  have  been  conceiv- 
ed, for,  after  all,  nothing  was  more  like- 
ly than  that  le,  Fred,  with  the  frank 
•uavity  of  his  b  ature,  would  tell  Jacks  ev- 


erything after  they  had  fairly  got  away. 

As  it  was,  Jacks  must  have  played 
his  part  badly  in  jsome  particular,  for 
Fred  was  not  at  all  taken  in  the  matter  ; 
and  now  he  had  but  one  thought,  and 
that  was,  how  to  get  rid  of  the  rascal 
who  was  by  his  side,  without  at  the  same 
time  bringing  upon  himself  the  attack 
of  those  who  might  be  his  confederate*. 

After  a  little  time,  they  came  to  a  lit- 
tle collection  of  cottages,  and  then  Fred, 
as  they  passed  them,  spoke  in  a  kindly 
tone,  for  he  felt  himself  quite  justified 
in  using  fraud  against  fraud. 

"  Jacks,  my  good  fellow,"  he  said 
4'  you  are  rather  curious." 

"Oh,  dear,  no!" 

"  But  you  are,  I  know,  and  you  think 
it  unkind  of  me  that  I  do  not  gratify 
you  upon  several  points,  which  I  will 
now  cleir  up  satisfactorily." 

"  Will  you  ?"  said  Jacks,  eagerly,  as 
he  turned  right  round  and  took  a  glance 
in  the  direction  that  the  clergyman  had 
gone. 

"  Yes,**  added  Fred,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  movement,  although  it  quite  con- 
firmed him,  if  any  confirmation  was  at 
all  wanted,  in  his  suspicions  of  the  ^ood 
faith  of  his  traveling  companion.  "Yea, 
I  will  tell  you  all.  If  I  mistake  not,  Pe- 
ter Bayley  is  very  anxious  about  no  leaa 
than  four  things?" 

"  Four  things  ?     Four,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes.  First  of  a  young  lady,  named 
Jane — second,  a  cedar-box  in  which 
there  aie  some  rather  important  papen 
— thirdly,  Blake,  his  man — fourthly,  th« 
ghost,  real  or  supposeil,  of  Lolanti." 

"  Ah  !"  sai<l  Jacks,  and  his  eye  betray- 
ed the  eagerness  with  which  he  listened. 

"  Now,  Jacks,  you  must  not  let  what 


FEAiaESS  FRED. 


ffl 


i  fiui  g'lug  tc  say  to  you  go  any  furth- 
er, ycu  krov'j  for  I  would  nol  for  worlds 
^•ave  it  rcp'-Uod." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  not  for  the  universe !" 
How  very  eager  Jacks  was  !  He  al- 
most forgot  his  fatigue  and  his  blistered 
t'et  in  his  agony  to  hear  thd  statement 
that  he  now  fully  expected  was  coming 
from  the  simple  lips  of  Fred. 

With  an  aspect  of  great  seriousness 
snd  mystery,  Fred  now  spoke  :— 

"  You  must  know,  Jacks,  that  upon 
Hampstead  Heath,  if  when  you  turn  to 
the  right,  after  placing  your  face  to  the 
west,  and  then  take  two  short  turnings 
to  the  left,  and  after  that  go  straight 
on,  and  keep  your  right  hand  to  th^' 
furze  bushes,  and  your  left  to  a  pond, 
and  go  as   straight  as  you  can  for  half 

n  mile,  you " 

"  Stop  !  stop  !" 

"No,  I  can't  stop — you  come  to  a 
well." 

"  Yes ;  but,  Mr.  Fred,  upon  my  life, 
now,  I  really  cannot  follow  you.  You 
turn  to  the  right  and  then  turn  to  the 
left,  and  keep  the  furze  bushes  to  the 

right,  and  follow  your " 

Nose." 
"  Well,  well  ?" 

"That  was  just  what  I  said, — you 
come  to  a  well, — Confound  that  clergy- 
man !  Here  he  is  again.  Of  all  the 
restless  digtiitaries  of  the  church  that 
ever  I  saw,  he  beats  them.  Where  can 
he  be  going  to,  now  ?  He  has  some  one 
with  him,  too." 

"  It  is  his  groom,''  said  Jacks,  as  the 
flcrcrvman  rode  up,  with  a  very  grave 
and  sturdy-looking  servant  in  top-boots, 
nnd  a  snufT-rolored  coat,  behind  him  ; 
and  a  wonderfully  white  cravaL  too,  the 


servant  had,  as  well  as  the  master.  The 
horse  that  the  groom  rode  on,  wffi  no 
way  inferior  to  that  of  the  clergyman's 
himself. 

As  the  latter  passed  Fred  and  Jacks, 
he  said,  with  t^ae  same  smile  that  he  had 
used  before — 

"  I  regret  that  I  troubled  you  about 
the  time,  but  do  you  happen  to  have 
heard  any  clock  ?  I  unfortunately  left 
my  watch  at  home." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Jacks,  hurriedly.  "No 
sir,  we  don't  know  the  time  of  day,  but 
we  soon  shall." 

"  Oh,  very  good.  Pardon  me  for  thus 
troubling  you.     G^od-day." 

The  suspicious  clergyman  and  hia 
groom  rode  on. 

"  Curse  him  !"  said  Jacks. 

"  Why,  Jacks,"  laughed  Fred,  «  what 
a  passion  you  are  in,  to  be  sure  !  What 
has  tho  poor  parson  done  that  you 
should  curse  him  !" 

"  Nothing — that  is,  confound — no,  no 
— I  mean  nothing.  I  only  wish  he  had 
been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Do  you 
know,  I  can't  bear  to  be  bothered  by  a 
clergyman,  Mr.  Fred  ?  But  as  you  were 
saying  about  this  well  on  Hampstead 
Heath.  A  well  is  easily  found.  They 
are  not  so  plentiful  as  blackberries  hardly." 

"  It's  no  matter  whether  it  is  easily 
found  or  not.  Jacks.  You  don't  want  to 
find  it,  I'm  sure." 

"  Oh,  no,  no.  Why  should  I !  Well, 
go  on.     I  am  listening." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Fred.  "  That  clergy- 
man and  his  groom  go  at  a  good  pace, 
don't  they?     Hilloa  !  who  is  (his  ?" 

A  countryman,  with  a  double-barrell- 
ed fowling-piece  in  his  hand,  got  over  a 
hedge  close  by. 


w 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


*•  Oh, bother  him  !"  said  Jacks.  "Go  on 
with  your  story,  Mr.  Fred.  Never  mind 
him.  He  is  nothing  to  us.  Let  us  walk 
quicker.  Iain  not  nearly  so  tired  now  as 
I  was,  do  you  know,  and  that  is  strange.'' 

"Very.  But  stop  a  bit !  I  have  an 
idea.  Ililloa!  liilloa !  hoi!  there!  You 
fellow  with  the  gun.     Ililioa  !" 

"Goodness  gracious!"  said  Jacks, 
^  what  do  you  want  with  him  ?" 

"  Well,  what  now  ?"  said  the  country- 
man, as  he  came  lazily  forward. 

**My  good  fellow,"  said  Fred,  "istnat 
your  own  gun  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  it  ought  to  be,  seeing  as 
I  gave  a  matter  of  three  pound  ten  for 
it  in  London  only  last  year." 

«  Very  well ;  tlien,  I  will  give  you  five 
guineas  for  it  here  upon  the  spot." 

"  No,  no  ;  you  are  mad,"  said  Jacks. 

"  Not  so  mad  as  you  suppose,"  said 
Fred.  "  Will  you  take  the  money,  my 
good  fellow,  or  will  you  not  ?" 

"Oh,  you  are  a  joldng,  sir,  with  I," 
said  the  countryman.  "  It's  a  roughish 
sort  of  a  gun,  although  a  nice  good  'un 
to  go  ;  but  it  ain't  tlie  sort  of  gun  for  a 
gentleman.     You  are  only  joking,  .oir." 

**  Not  I,  Here's  the  money.  All  I 
wish  ia  the  gun." 

"  As  he  spoke,  Fred  produced  the  five 
guineas,  and  held  tl-em  out  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand  to  tlie  countryman,  who 
looked  eagerly  at  the  coin  and  then  at 
Fred,  and  then  at  the  gun.  At  last  he 
made  a  grab  at  the  money,  as  if  he 
thought  that  if  he  were  not  quick  about 
it,  Fred  would  repent  of  the  offer,  and 
return  the  glittering  coin  to  his  pocket 
again.  But  as  Fred  let  him  take  them, 
ho  was  reassured,  and  handing  him  the 
(ran,  hh  said — 


"  Take  it,  sir,  and  may  it  do  you  good 
sarvice — take  it,  sir,  and  thank  you  kind- 
ly. It  ain't  much  use  to  me  ;  for  though 
I  do  only  go  out  to  shoot  a  rabbit  now 
an'  then,  it  isn't  a  good  thing  for  a  pooT 
mm  to  have  a  gun  when  there  are  pre- 
serves all  round  him.  It  makes  the  gen- 
try suspect  him  like,  you  see,  .sir. 

"No  doubt;  and,  besides,"— Fred 
laughed — "  besides,  you  can  buy  anoth- 
er, you  know,  and  pocket  the  differ- 
ence." 

"  lie — he  1"  laughed  the  countryman 
"  I  can — ecod,  I  can  do  that,  surely,  sir. 
Many  thanks  to  you." 

"  Stop  a  bit.     Is  it  loaded  ?" 
"  Why,    yes.     The  right-hand  barrel 
with   goodish  sized   shot,  and   the   left" 
hand  with  a  bullet." 

"Good;  but  you  have  a  flask  and 
powder  ?" 

"Take  'em — take  'em.  I  had  'em 
with  the  gun,  and  so  ought  you.  Now 
you  are  all  right,  sir;  and  dang  it,  I 
don't  feel  a  bit  displeased  about  my 
morning's  work.  Good  luck  go  with 
you,  sir,  and  the  old  gun,  too,  not  that 
it's  so  old  either ;  good  day,  sir." 
"  Thank  you — good  day." 
The  countryman  walked  off^  and  Fred, 
by  a  rapid  inspection  of  the  gun,  founi 
that  it  was  duly  primed,  and  in  good  o> 
der  for  use, 

"  Gracious  providence  !"  said  Jack^ 
and  he  seemed  ready  to  tear  the  hair  out 
of  his  head  fiom  vexation,  "  what  do 
you  want  with  that  ?  You  must  b« 
mad,  quite  outright !  Why  the  po.<«««s- 
sion  of  such  a  weapon  as  that  will  draw 
down  upon  us  the  attention  of  every  ont 
whom  we  may  meet** 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


63 


•*  But  consider,  in  the  right-hand  bar- 
rel a  lot  of  goodish  sized  shot " 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Fred,  that " 

"And  in  the  left  ft  bullet." 

•♦  Curie  the  bullet,  and  curse  the 
shot !" 

«  Stop !" 

"  What  ior— what  for— eh  ?" 

"  My  dear  Jacks,  this  seems  a  very 
lonely  hit  of  road.  We  arc  past  all  the 
houses,  and  I  don't  see  a  human  being 
tbout  but  ourselves.  The  clergyman  and 
his  groom  have  ridden  on  ;  and  now,  my 
dear  Jacks," — Fred  stepped  back  three 
or  four  paces  nimbly — "and  now,  my 
dear  Jacks,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  heaven 
above  us,  and  as  that  I  am  a  living  man, 
if  you  don't  be  off  before  I  can  count 
twenty  out  of  the  range  of  this  gun,  I'll 
firet  give  you  the  goodish  sized  shot,  and 
then,  by  Jove,  I'll  give  you  the  bullet." 

Fred  presented  the  gun  directly  at  Mr. 
Jacks'  face,  and  they  contemplated  each 
other  for  a  minute  or  two  in  silence. 
Jacks  face  looked  the  color  of  rather  in- 
diffent  putty. 

•♦  Run  !"  cried  Fred,  "  or  by  Heaven 
you  are  a  dead  man  !" 

"  Murder  !"  shouted  Jacks. 

"  Run,  I  say  or  nothing  can  save  you  !" 

"No— no.  Mr.  Fred.  Stop!  Oh, 
don't !  I  will  tell  you  all.  Peter  Bay- 
ley,  you  see " 

"  I  know  all.  Run,  you  infernal 
scoundrel,  or  the  shot  will  be  about  your 
ears  before  you  know  where  you  are." 

Off  set  Jaclcs  notwithstanding  all  his 
fatigue  and  the  blisters  on  his  toes,  at 
such  a  rate,  that  it  was  quite  ludicrous 
tf>  see  him.  Once  ho  fell  down,  but  he 
hardly  stopped  to  gather  himself  up  again, 
Wut  went  along  upon  all  fours,  till,  quite 


as  if  by  accident,  he  got  upon  his  fwet 
again,  and  resumed  his  headlong  speed. 
There  was  a  turn  in  the  road,  and  Mr. 
Jacks  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 
Fearless  Fred  looked  up  at  the  sun,  and 
then  he  glanced  at  the  shadows  of  th« 
trees  in  the  hedgerows. 

"  This  is  my  way,"  he  said,  and  in 
another  moment  he  was  over  the  hedge 
and  in  the  meadows  on  the  opposite  side. 
He  had  hardly  got  there  when  he  heard 
the  gallop  of  horses'  feet,  and  he  at  once 
flung  himself  down  close  under  the  hedge, 
but  not  so  low  as  to  prevent  him  from 
peeping  into  the  road-way  and  seeing 
who  it  was  that  were  coming. 

"  Jacks'  clergyman, by  all  that's  good," 
said  Fred,  as  he  saw  the  very  sober  and 
pious  individual  gallop  up  with  his 
groom.  They  both  passed  close  to  th,« 
hedge,  and  the  clergyman,  in  a  loud 
voice,  said — 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Johnstone,  that  I 
will  blow  his  brains  ©ut  the  next  time  I 
pass  them,  if  Jacks  has  not  succeeded. 
The  fellow  is  upon  his  guard,  confound 
him,  and  the  whole  affair  is  a  failure." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is  Mr.  Bayley,"  said 
the  groom. 

Fred  was  astounded.  Much  as  he  had 
heard  of  Peter  Bayley's  tact  and  skill  ia 
disguises,  he  had  no  idea  that  he  really 
possessed  such  a  consummate  art  as  ta 
prevent  hirrT,  Fred,  from  having  the  least 
suspicion  of  him  when  attired  as  a  cler 
gyman,  and  with  a  false  color  upon  Lif 
face,  and  a  wig  and  painted  eyes,  all  to 
make  him  up  as  an  old  man.  To  bo 
sur(^  the  voice  in  which  he  had  spoken 
to  the  seeming  groom  was  the  voice  of 
Bayley,  and  had  for  the  moment  stag^ 
Igered  Fred;   but  yet  he  could   bardlj 


14 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


believe  it  could  possibly  be  him  until  he 
heard  liira  named  by  his  man. 

After  that  fact,  though,  there  could  be 
that  no  doubt  but  the  seeming  clergyman 
was  no  other  than  Peter  Bayley  himself, 
and  that  he  had  been  upon  the  track  of 
Fred  and  Mr.  Jacks  from  the  first  step 
that  they  took  out  of  Newgate,  and  that 
Jacks  was  pretty  well  aware  of  that 
rather  important  fact.  If  Fred,  in  the 
sincerity  and  frankness  of  his  disposition, 
had  spoken  freely  to  Jacks,  he  would 
upon  one  of  the  occasions  of  Peter  passing 
them,  have  found  out,  to  use  their   own 


slowly,  and  meet  them  again,  and  heai 
what  Jacks  has  to  say." 

Now,  from  where  he  was,  nothing 
could  have  been  easier  for  Fred  than  to 
have  at  once  accommodated  Peter  Bay- 
ley  with  either  of  the  barrels  of  the 
charged  gun.  He  could  have  given  him 
the  shot,  or  he  could  have  given  him  the 
bullet  that  was  in  the  left-hand  barrel, 
and  Bayley's  career  in  either  caso  would, 
in  all  human  likelihood,  have  come  to  an 
end,  much  to  the  benefit  of  society  at 
large,  and  of  him.  Fearless  Fred,  in  par- 
ticular.    Little  did  Peter  know  his  dan- 


private  signal,  "  what  the  time  of  day  ger. 


was,"  and  then  Fred  would,  upon  the 
moment,  either  have  been  pounced  upon 
and  re-captured,  or  possibly,  if  Bayley 
thought  that  such  a  course  would  answer 
his  purpose  best,  would  have  been  killed 
upon  the  spot,  so  that  he  owed  entirely 
his  preservation  to  the  fact  of  keeping 
his  secrets  to  himself. 

Frona  his  rather  thorny  but  still  suffi- 
ciently secure  retreat,  because  it  was  en- 
tirely unsuspected,  Fred  was  able  now 
to  hear  every  word  that  Bayley  said  to 
the  man  who  was  with  him. 

"  They  ought  to  be  not  far  off  now, 
Johnstone,"  he  added.  "Confound  that 
Jacks,  he  has  not  managed  matters  pro- 
perly, or  he  would  have  had  no  sort  of 
difficulty  in  the  transaction." 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Bayley,*?  jsaid  John- 
stone. "  If  Fred  got  to  suspect  him  by 
any  means,  it  would  be  no  easy  matter 
U^  get  at  the  information  you  wanted, 
fir." 

"  Well,  I  am  out  of  patience." 

*'  It  will  be  better  to  give  Jacks  a  m- 
tle  more  time,  sir,  won't  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that.    "We  will  ride  on 


Once  Fred  did  slowly  raise  the  gun  tc 
his  shoulder,  and  cover  Bayley  with  it. 
One  touch  to  either  of  the  triggers,  and 
the  business  would  have  been  done  ;  but 
Fred  could  not  give  that  touch. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  to  hitnself,  "  no.  It 
is  too  much  like  assassination.  I  cannot 
do  it — I  wish  I  could,  but  I  cannot.  I 
have  no  compunction  about  killing  such 
a  man  as  Bayley,  but  it  must  be  in  fair 
fight,  and  not  from  behind  a  hedge.  I 
cannot  do  it." 

He  lowered  the  gun  again,  and  Petor 
Bayley  was  saved. 

"  Come  on,  Johnstone,"  he  said, 
"  Come  on  at  a  walk.  We  won't  over- 
take them  soon." 

Another  moment  and  they  were  gone, 
and  then,  if  Fred  had  felt  ever  so  much 
inclined  to  shoot  the  villain,  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  he  could  have  done  so.  It  would 
have  been  a  long  and  a  very  hazardous 
shot  now. 

"  It  is  done,"  said  Fred  as  he  rose  and 
looked  over  the  hedge  after  them.  "  1\ 
is  done  now  and  I  have  let  go  the  great- 
est villain  the  world  ever  saw.     Not  s* 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


65 


Would  he  have  allowed  me  to  escape. 
Oh,  no,  n:) !  But  that  is  no  matter  ;  I 
am  not,  and  surely  I  don't  want  to  be, 
like  Peter  Bay  ley. 

This  was  true  enough,  and  Fred  with 
the  gun  upon  his  arm,  proceeded  across 
the  meadow  in  which  he  found  himself. 
That  he  was  trespassing  upon  some 
one's  grounds,  who  doubtless  would  be 
in  a  great  passion  if  he  saw  him,  there  is 
little  doubt;  but  that  did  not  give  much 
concern  to  one  of  so  adventurous  a  cast 
as  Fearless  Fred,  and  he  scarcely  troubled 
himself  to  look  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left  to  see  if  any  one  were  at  hand. 

Fred  in  his  progress  now  to  where  he 
had  left  Jane  and  Blake,  was  only  guided 
by  the  sun  ;  that  enabled  him,  at  all 
etrents,  to  see  that  he  was  'going  in  the 
right  direction ;  but  in  crossing  the 
country  in  the  manner  that  he  was,  he 
could  not  take  upon  himself  to  say  how 
far  he  had  to  go,  or  if  he  was  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left  of  the  road  he  wan- 
ted to  reach. 

"  nilloa  !"  cried  a  voice  near  him. 

"  What  now  ?"  said  Fred. 

"  Come,  I  say,"  said  a  countryman, 
making  his  way,  almost  breathless,  to 
where  Fred  was  composedly  pursuing  his 
way,  "you  mustn't  come  over  here,  I 
tell  you." 

'*  Oh,  very  well.  I  shall  know  that 
another  time." 

"But  you  must  go  back." 

"  Must  I  ?  What  is  on  the  other  side 
of  yonder  hedge  ?" 

**  Why,  the  road,  to  be  sure." 

"  Then   I   will   go   to   it,    my   friend, 

which  will  be  all  that  you  can  desire,  I 

presume  "  •  '■ 

.1 
^  No.  it  ain't    My  master  says  as  I 


am  to  turn  people  back,  and  not  let  'era 
go  on  at  all ;  so,  back  you  must  go," 

"  Did  your  master  tell  you  how  to  make 
people  go  back  if  they  would  not?  I 
warn  you,  my  fine  fellow,  to  keep  your 
distance,  or  I  shall  be  obliged  to  giveyoo 
the  contejits  of  one  of  the  barrels." 

The  fellow  looked  aghast. 

"Now,  look  you,"  added  Fred,  "J 
know  I  am  tresspassing  now,  because 
you  have  told  me  ;  but  all  you  can  doiji 
to  warn  me  off  the  land,  and  as  I  will  tell 
you  who  I  am,  that  will  give  the  only 
legal  remedy  you  can  have  in  the  mat- 
ter." 

"  Who  are  you,  then  ?" 

"  The  Marquis  of  Alecumpaine." 

"Oh,  Lord!  I  beg  your  marquis's 
lordship's  pardon,  that  I  does.  I  am 
quite  sure,  that  master  and  missus  would 
be  as  pleased  as  possible  if  your  marquis 
of  a  lordship's  grace  would  only  stop  at 
Tooth  ems." 

"  At  what  ?" 

"  Toothems,  your  worship.  That's 
the  name  of  the  place  here.  Master  was 
a  pawnbroker  in  Bishopsgate.  you  see, 
your  grace  of  a  marquis ;  and  when  he 
made  his  fortune  and  bought  this  here 
estate,  it  was  called  The  Grange,  but  he 
altered  the  name  to  Toothems,  which 
was  missus's  maiden  name." 

Fred  laughed.  "That  will  do,"  he 
said.  "  Some  other  time  T  will  do  my- 
self the  pleasure  of  calling.  You  can 
give  the  marquis's  compliments  to  the 
family,  and  say  that  I  am  very  sorry  I 
trespassed  upon  their  land." 

"  Oh,  but  my  lord  marquis,  there^ 
five  Miss  Squapps." 

"  Miss  what  do  you  call  tnera  ?** 

"  S  ^uapp  is  tlieir  names,  my  lord  mar 


56 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


quia,  and  they  want  to  know  a  lord  ;  and  (covered  the  face  mf  nature,  and  for  a  t'iiu« 
if  you  will  only  come  up  to  the  lodge,   he  was  scarcely  conscious.     That  feeling 


how  glad  they  will  be.  They  won't  ever 
forgive  me  for  letting  your  lordship's 
grace  go." 

"  And  yet  go  I  must.  Farewell !  Tell 
them  I  will  call  some  other  time." 

Fred  reached  the  hedge,  and  clambered 
over  it  in  a  moment,  and  sprung  into  the 
road.  One  glance  at  that  road  told  him 
that  he  was  very  mnch  nearer  to  the 
place  where  he  had  left  Jane  than  he  had 
anticipated,  and  he  quickened  his  pace, 
until  he  saw  a  country  lad  sitting  by  tlie 
road  side,  apparently  crying.  A  little 
bundle  and  a  stick  were  lying  upon  the 
grass  by  his  side,  and  a  broad-brimmed 
felt-hat  concealed  his  head  and  the  up- 
per part  of  his  face,  while  the  lower  was 
resting  upon  his  hands. 

Fred  could  hear  the  boy  sobbing,  and 
he  was  wondering  what  could  induce  so 
much  grief  in  one  so  young  as  he  ap- 
proached him.  The  sobs  of  the  boy  evi- 
dently prevented  him  from  hearing  the 
approach  of  Fred,  and  the  latter  was  close 
enough  to  him  to  reach  out  his  hand  and 
place  it  upon  his  shoulders,  as  he  said  in 
a  kindly  tone — 

"  My  poor  boy,  what  is  it  that  fills 
you  so  full  of  grief  ?  Can  I  aid  you  in 
any  way,  my  good  fellow  ?" 

"  Fred  !"  shrieked  the  boy,  as  he  with- 
drew his  hands  from  before  him.  "  Oh, 
God !     My  Fred  !     My  own  Fred  I" 

Fred  dropped  the  gun,  and  in  another 
moment, •Jane,  for  it  was,  indeed,  no 
other,  fainted  in  his  arms ! 

The  shock  of  delight — the  surprise 
that  for  a  moment  or  two  bewildered  his 
brain,  were  almost  too  much  for  poor 
Fred :  and  he,  too,  felt  as, if  a  veil  had 


rapidly  passed  away,  though,  and  as  he 
held  her  whom  he  loved  better  than  all 
the  world  in  his  arms,  and  repeatedly 
kissed  her  pale  cheeks,  the  tears  gushed 
from  his  eyes,  and  he  could  only  faintly 
say — 

"  My  Jane — my  own,  dear  girl !  Ol\ 
speak — Speak  to  me  !" 

With  a  faint  sigh  she  oponed  her 
eyes,  and  looked  at  him.  Her  little 
hands  clutched  him  tightly  by  his 
dress. 

"  Oh,  no — no,"  she  said,  "  you  must 
not  go  from  me !  It  is  not  a  dream  ! 
Oh,  no,  do  not  tell  me  it  is  all  a  dream, 
and  that  you  are  going  to  leave  me  !" 

"  I  will  not — T  am  not." 

"  Fred — Fred  !  You  are  my  Fred, 
and  I  have  you  with  me  now.  Oh, 
God  !  let  him  stay — let  him  stay  with 
me  !" 

The  overcharged  heart  of  the  young 
girl  now  found  relief  in  tears  ;  and  she 
wept  for  some  few  moments  upon  Fred'" 
breast.  They  were  blessed,  peace-givin*^ 
tears,  those ;  and  Fred  did  not  try  to 
check  them.  He  knew,  little  as  his  ex- 
perience was,  that  those  tears  would 
bring  relief  to  Jane. 

After  a  time,  then,  she  was  able  to 
jook  up  to  him  again,  and  to  smile  in  his 
face,  as  she  said — 

"  Ah  !  now,  dear  Fred,  I  know  that 
you  are  with  me,  and  that  it  is  all  real, 
this  happy  meeting.  You  came  to  me, 
Fred '♦ 

"  By  accident,  dear  Jane— only  by 
accident,  just  now ;  but  I  was  coming  to 
you.  What  a  joy  it  is  to  have  met 
you. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


67 


•*  Yes,  Fred — yea  !  Newgate  ! — Ah  ! 
that  dreadful  name  !  You  were  there, 
in  the  dismal  prison.  Have  they  letyoQ 
go  free  f* 

"  No.  I  ztn  free,  but  with  no  good 
will  of  those  who  would  have  kept  me  a 
prisoner.  But  I  am  all  amazement  to 
find  you  here,  and  alone." 

"I  will  tell  you  how  that  is.  You 
shall  know  all  that,  Fred.  Oh,  let  me 
look  at  you  first.  You  are  pale,  my 
Fred." 

How  she  clung  to  him,  and  with  what 
a  world  of  rapturous  fondness  she  looked 
up  in  his  face  ! 

"  What  do  you  start  at,  Fred  ?"  she  ad- 
ded. "  You  look  along  the  road,  too, 
as  though  you  had  some  fears." 

"I  have  fears,  Jane.  This  is  too  pub- 
lic a  road  for  me  to  remain  on  long. 
Bayley,  my  worst  enemy,  and  the  worst 
enemy  that  any  mortal  man  could  have, 
is  in  this  immediate  neighborhood." 
"  Peter  Bayley  ?"' 

"  Yes,  Let  us  get  to  some  more  retired 
spot  than  this,  Jane  ;  and  then  you  shall 
tell  me  what  has  happened  to  you  since 
we  last  met.  I  think  I  see  the  opening 
of  a  shadowy  lane  a  little  further  on 
yonder,  by  the  old  chestnut  tree." 

The  shady  lane  that  had  been  men- 
tioned was  soon  reached,  and  they  went 
8ome  little  distance  along  it.  The  trees 
quite  met  overhead  in  that  lane,  making 
a  natural  and  beautiful  verdant  arch, 
through  small  crevices  in  which  the 
daylight  peeped  most  deliciously.  It 
was  evidently  a  very  little  frequented 
spot ;  although  the  marks  of  carriage 
wheels  showed  that  it  led  to  somewhere 
jr  another. 

"  Now,  my  Jane,"  said  Fred,  "  tell  me 


how  it  is,  that  I  see  yon  alone,  and  thus 
attired  ?" 

"  Oh,  this  is  the  Sunday  suit  of  a  lad 
that  came  to  the  cottage.     But,  Fred,. 
I  want  to  know  how  you  got  out   of 
prison." 

"Yes;  but ^ 

"Nay,  Fred,  you  must  tell  me  your 
adventures  first.     Do,  dear  Fred." 

"  Well,  I  will.  Only  you  know^ 
that  I  am  so  much  more  interested  in 
you,  than  you  can  possibly  be  in  me, 
that " 

"  Fred  I" 

"  Well,  my  darling  Jane  ?  What  ia 
it?" 

"  IIow  can  you  be  so  wicked  and  so 
unkind  as  to  speak  to  me  in  that  way  f 
Ah,  you  are  smiling  !  You  know  what 
an  injustice  you  did  me.  Fred — Fred, 
it  is  very  cruel  of  you — very  cruel,  in- 
deed." 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  in  a  few' 
words,"  said  Fred  ;  and  he  related  what 
is  already  known  to  the  reader. 

Jane  sighed,  as  he  concluded. 

"Ah!  Fred,"  she  murmured,  "yon 
must  live  to  be  something  different — 
something  better  than  you  are  now. 
You  are  yet  young,  Fred,  and  surely 
you  will  not  waste  a  whole  life  in  such 
perils  as  those  which  now  surround 
you  ?" 

"  Do  not  speak  to  me  of  that  now, 
Jane  ;  but  tell  me  as  nearly  as  you  can 
where  the  cedar-box  is  ?" 

Jane  gave  Fred  now  such  an  accurate 
description  of  the  place  in  which  sho 
had  hidden  the  cedar-box,  that  he  could 
not  possibly  miss  it;  and  then  she  told 
him  that  the  reason  she  was  alone  when 
he  met  her  was,  that  the  cottage  where 


it 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


•ho  had  been  staying  was  attacked  by 
four  iiKin,  who  bad  offerea  a  hundred 
pounds  to  the  lad,  Philip,  to  bring  her 
out  to  them ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary, 
he  had  brought  her  the  dress  she  then 
wore,  and  urged  her  to  fly.  What  bad 
become  of  Blake,  she  bad  no  sort  of 
idea. 

"Jane,"  said  Fred,  "you  are  still,  no 
doubt,  hunted  far  by  your  implacable  en- 
emies, the  earl  and  bis  wife ;  but,  please 
Heaven,  I  will  yet  protect  you  from  them. 
I  must  place  you  somewhere  in  safety  in 
London,  and  then  go  and  get  the  cedar- 
box,  which,  I  am  convinced,  contains 
papers  that  will  unravel  the  mystery  at- 
taching to  your  birth  and  name.  You 
may  be  some  great  person,  Jane." 

"  Never  so  great,  and  never  so  happy," 
•aid  the  young  creature,  as  she  fell  upon 
Fred's   breast,  as   when    I'm   with  you, 
dear  Fred,  and  know  that  you  love  me." 
"  Ilush  !     What  do  you  hear  now  ?" 
■  "Horses  feet." 
"So   do   L     This   won't   do.     Peter 
Bay  ley  is  about  this  part   of  the   coun- 
try.     He   will  be    furious   at  my   es- 
caj>e.''.. 

At  this  moment,  a  creaking  of  bran- 
ches, fell  upon  their  .ears.  Fred,  seizing 
his  gun,  started  up,  and  beheld  five  men 
breaking  through  the  bushes,  and  al- 
most upon  him.  In  their  leader,  he  re- 
cocfnized  one  whom  ho  knew  but  too 
well. 

"Peter  Bayley!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Aye,  Peter  Bayley  !"  was  the  reply 
of  that  personage,  with  a  roar  of  triumph. 
"  Upon  him,  meii !"  he  added,  turning  to 
\is  companions.  "  Arrest  him — dead  or 
alive,  I  care  not.  Should  ho  iesist,  kill 
him  r* 


"  Caught  at  last !"  muttered  Fcarlest 
Fred.  ''  But  I'll  die  game,  come  what 
may  of  it !" 

He  raised  the  gun  to  his  shoulder, 
and,  quick  as  light,  pulled  the  trigger. 

"Devil!"  he  exclaimed,  "if  I  must 
die,  it  shall  be  for  ridding  the  earth  of  a 
monster !     Take  that !" 

A  roar  of  agony  broke  from  the  lips 
of  Peter  Bayley,  who,  in  another  mo- 
ment, fell,  like  a  lifeless  ox,  outstretched 
upon  the  earth. 

A  volley  of  pistol  shots  followed,  and 
Fearless  Fred  fell.  It  appeared'to  him 
asthoufi'h  he  were  shot  through  the  head  ; 
but  vet  by  some  means  he  managed  to 
get  to  his  feet,  and  by  an  impulse  rather 
than  from  any  reflection,  he  ran  forward, 
and  stumbled  over  some  shrubs  and  fell 
ao^ain.  There  was  a  splashing  of  water 
beneath  him,  and  he  faintly  struggled 
for  a  moment  or  two.  He  heard  a 
shrieking  voice  cry  "  Fred  !  Fred  !"  and 
then  the  world  seemed  to  be  twisting 
round  with  him,  at  a  mad  gallop,  and  he 
lapsed  into  total  insensibility. 

Death  could  have  been  no  more  to 
Fearless  Fred  than  that  dreadful  feeling 
when  he  found  that  sense  and  thought 
were  alike  fading  from  him. 

How  long  he  lay  in  that  trance  of 
death.  Fearless  Fred  had  not  the  least 
idea.  It  might  have  been  an  hour — a 
day — a  week  for  all  he  knew ;  but  he 
felt  suddenly  a  pain  at  his  head  that 
forced  a  scream  from  his  lips.  As  he  ap- 
proached consciousness,  he  heard,  or  fan- 
cied he  heard  voices  and  footsteps,  and 
theu  a  scream,  and  then  a  confusion  of 
voices,  and  some  one  said — 

"It  is  some  one  badly  hurt.  Lend 
nee  your  pitcher,  my  little  girl** 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


89 


Splash — splash  cAme  cold  water  in 
Fred's  face,  and  he  felt  much  revived. 
He  was  able  to  open  his  eyes,  and  then 
he  saw  bending  over  hiia  a  tall  female, 
with  a  pair  of  speotacles  on,  who  was 
from  an  earthenware  pitcher,  dashing 
water  in  his  face.  It  was  such  a  relief 
to  Fred  to  get  rid  of  the  faintness,  that 
he  murmured  faintly — 

"  Thank  you — God  bless  you  P 

"  Don't  say  that,"  replied  the  tall  fe- 
male in  the  spectacles.  "It  is  but  a 
■light  service.  But  how  came  you  in 
this  state  ?  You  are  but  a  boy.  How 
is  it  that   you  are  in  such  a  condition  ?" 

*'  Such  a  thief,"  said  Fred,  gaspingly. 
•*0h,  such  a  villain  !  Tliank  you,  mad- 
am. Oh,  God,  if  I  could  only  foel  sure 
that  she  were  safe  !  I  care  nothing  for 
myself,  but  much  I  think  of  her." 

"  Whom  speak  you  of?" 

Fred  looked  at  the  tall  lady,  and  then 
shook  his  head  sadly.  Ilis  heart  was 
too  full  just  then  to  allow  him  to  utter 
even  the  name  of  Jane,  which  was  upon 
his  lips. 

"  Come — come,"  said  the  lady,  "  you 
must  not  be  pestered  just  now  with 
questions.  The  first  thing  is  to  serve  you, 
and  to  attend  to  your  wounds.  Phebe — 
Phebe !" 

"Yes,  mum,"  said  the  little  girl,  who 
kept  at  a  certain  distance. 

"  You  run  to  my  house,  and  teli 
James  to  come  here  directly." 

The  little  girl  ran  off,  and  then  Fred 
just  managed  to  say,  as  he  fi.\ed  his  eyes 
wistfully  upon  the  pitc/ier — 

"  Water  !  water !" 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  tall  lady  with 
the  spectacles.  "  I  ought  to  have  thought 
of  thst. 


Fred  drank  from  the  pitcher  as  she 
held  it  to  him,  and  ho  felt  much  relieved 
as  be  did  so. 

"  More  thanks,"  he  said.  "  Oh,  mad- 
am, I  don't  think  I  am  much  hurt,  and 
you  have  saved  me  from  such  a  world 
of  pain.  I  think  if  that  dreadfu* 
insensibility  had  come  over  me  again 
should  never  have  seen  the  light  of  day 
more. 

"  And  so  young,  too.  Why,  you  are 
not  twenty  ?" 

Oh,  here  is  James.  Now,  James,  you 
will  assist  this  wounded  youth  to  the 
house." 

James  took  up  Fearless  Fred  in  his 
arms  as  if  he  had  been  some  little  child, 
and  walked  on  with  him  as  easily  as 
possible." 

"  Where  will  you  have  him  put,  mi^ 
sus  ?" 

"  In  the  visitors'  room,  James,"  said  the 
tall  lady  ;  "  and  here,  Phebe,  where  are 
you  ?" 

"  Here,  madam,"  said  Phebe. 

"  Go  to  Mr.  Moore,  the  surgeon,  in  the 
village,  and  tell  him,  with  my  compli- 
ments, that  I  would  be  glad  to  see  him 
as  soon  as  he  can  come  to  my  house." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

The  little  girl  started  off  in  a  moment, 
while  Fred  was  carried  to  the  house  of 
the  tall  lady  in  the  spectacles. 

We  may  as  well  now  state  that  that 
lady's  name  was  Block,  and  that  she  waa 
in  independent  circumstances.  T!w 
house,  old-fashioned  as  it  was,  belonged 
to  her,  and  she  was,  with  the  little  that 
she  possessed,  perfectly  rich,  because  it 
was  enough  for  her  simple  desires,  be- 
sides leaving  hor  a  surplus,  which  it  ma 


«0 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


her  doligbt  to  make  use  of  in  works  of 
kindn(,'¥s  and  charity. 

Fred  was  so  much  refreshed  by  the 
draught  of  water  that  he  had  had  from 
the  earthen  pitcher,  that  he  could  very 
well  now  have  walked  to  the  house,  but 
James  would  not  let  him,  but  carried  him 
ail  the  way. 

The  visitors'  room  at  Rose  Cottage, 
for  that  was  tlie  name  of  the  pleasant 
little  abode  of  Mrs.  Block,  was  one  of 
the  prettiest  chambers  in  the  whole 
place.  The  window  was  quite  overrun 
with  boneysufkle  and  roses,  and  the 
sweet-scented  clematis,  and  the  room  it- 
self was  quite  a  little  bijou  in  the  way  of 
decorations  and  furnishing. 

In  one  corner  was  the  bed,  with  its 
pink  and  lace  hangings  ;  and  if  that  bed 
had  been  taken  out  of  the  room  you 
would  have  taken  the'  place  to  be  a 
very  pretty  country  boudoir,  or  sitting- 
room — for  there  was  nothing  cheap  or 
flaring  about  the  place,  just  on  ac- 
count of  its  being  a  bed-room — and  no- 
thing else. 

Poor  Fred,  though,  had  not  much 
time  nor  inclination  upon  his  first  in- 
troduction to  that  apartment  to  look  at 
it  or  its  <lecorations.  The  pain  at  the 
side  of  his  head  was  very  great.  That 
pain  was  external,  though,  and  that 
made  it  endurable,  for  it  did  not  attack 
his  brain  in  any  way  ;  therefore,  he  had 
all  his  presence  of  mind  to  bring  to 
hear  upon  it,  and  to  support  him  under 
It,  which  would  not  have  been  the  case 
had  the  smarting  l>een  internal  instead 
of  external,  so  that  upon  the  whole 
Fred  did  not  much  mind  it.  He  be- 
gan, howev(  r,  to  find  out  various  other 
Irttk  hurts,  and  one  of  bis  shoulders  felt 


very  stiff  and  tender. 

Here  you  are !"  said  James,  u  h« 
placed  Fred  on  the  sofa  in  the  room 
"  IIow  do  you  feel  now  !" 

"  Better,  decidedly." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  of  that,  and  now  you 
had  better  get  off  some  of  them  things 
of  yours,  that  are  all  wet,  you  see;  but 
I'll  be  hang<Mi  if  I  know  what  you  are 
to  put  on  besides." 

•'  Nor  I,  either.  I  had  better  get  to 
bed,  I  suppose,  and  yet,  no.  Now  that 
I  come  to  look  about  me,  it  would,  I  see, 
be  a  thousand  pities  for  me,  with  my  torn 
and  draggled  apparel,  and  all  this  blood 
upon  me,  to  make  no  end  of  mess  in  this 
pretty  room.  I  will  go  down  stairs, 
James.  I  daresay  you  have  some  back 
kitchen,  or,  perhaps,  a  yard  with  a  pump, 
and  if  so,  I  will  soon  put  myself  to 
rights." 

"  No,"  said  a  voice,  and  Mrs.  Block 
made  her  appearance.  "No,  I  will  not 
have  you  do  so.  James,  never  mind 
about  the  room,  but  assist  this  guest  of 
mine  to  change  his  apparel." 

"  But,  ma'am,  what  has  he  to  put  on  ?* 

Mrs.  Block  was  rather  posed  at  this, 
and  she  reflected  for  a  little  while,  and 
then  she  said — 

"It  is  true  that  we  have  no  male 
clothing  in  the  house  excepting  yours, 
James,  and  they  would  be  a  world  too 
large  for  my  young  friend  hero.  Go 
to  yonder  press,  and — Yet  no,  I  will 
go  myself.  You  must  not  touch  what  is 
there.  Poor  Maria's  clothes  are  there, 
and  she  was  about  the  size  of  this  pooi 
lad.  By-the-by,  what  is  your  uame,  nay 
young  friend  ?" 

"  Fred,  madam." 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


il 


"  That  is  your  christian  name  ?" 

"  It  is,  madam  ?" 

Mrs.  Block  was  quick-sighted  enough 
when  she  had  her  spectacles  on,  so  that 
«he  saw  that  Fred  did  not  wish  to  state 
his  other  name  before  James,  at  all 
events,  and  she  would  not  press  the 
question  then,  but  took  from  the  press 
that  was  in  the  room  a  black  silk  dress, 
and  handing  it  to  Fred,  she  said — 

You  can  put  that  on  for  the  pre- 
sent, till  James  has  dried  your  clothes 
by  the  kitchen  fire.  I  will  come  to  you 
Boon,  and  I  beg  that  you  will  consider 
this  house  as  your  home  for  the  pre- 
sent." 

"You  are  too  kind  to  me,  madam." 

**  No,  I  am  only  doing  what  it  pleases 
me  to  do.     It  is  my  duty,  that  is  all." 

Mrs.  Block  now  left  the  room,  and  by 
the  assistance  of  James,  Fred  got  rid  of 
his  wet  garments,  and  then,  just  as  he 
was  preparing  to  replace  them  by  the 
blark  silk  dross  that  his  kind  protectress 
had  lent  to  him,  there  was  a  tap  at  the 
door,  and  immediately  an  elderly  gentle- 
man appeared  upon  the  threshold. 

"  That  is  Doctor  Moore,"  said  James. 

"  Well,  James,  what  is'tiil  this  about  V 
said  the  doctor.  "  Your  mistress  tells 
mo  that  there  is  a  young  gentleman 
here,  who  has  been  beset  by  thieves.  I 
hope  it  is  nothing  serious  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  said  Fred,  "  I  assure 
you." 

"  That's  right.     Where  is  the  hurt  ?" 

"This  side  of  my  head,  sir.  I  think, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  bruises,  I  am 
all  riglit  everywhere  else ;  but  my  head 
does,  indeed,  pain  me." 

The  doctor  was  a  man  of  skill,  and 
1m  rapiulv  removed  the  coagulated  blood 


from  the  wound  at  the  side  of  Fred's 
head,  and  then  he  said  — 

*'  This  has  been  a  close  touch.  I  can 
trace  the  path  of  a  bullet  right  along  the 
head.  It  has  torn  up  the  scalp  in  its 
path,  and  slightly  bruised  the  bone. — 
Why,  my  young  friend,  if  that  bullet 
had  been  but  the  eighth  of  an  inch  to 
one  side,  it  would  have  taken  off  the 
curve  of  your  temple,  and  killed  you  at 
once." 

"  A  good  shot,  sir,"  said  Fred. 

"  Too  good  by  a  great  deal.  '  suppose 
it  stunned  you  !" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  rather  think  that  I  fell 
into  a  ditch,  and  lay  there  for  some 
hours,  till  I  was  found  by  Mrs.  Block. 
There  is  no  necessity  for  laying  up,  it 
there  ?" 

"  Yes,  for  a  day  or  two.  Then,  if 
nothing  happens  wrong  or  awkward 
with  the  wound,  you  will  be  all  right 
again." 

"  Thank  Heaven !" 

The  doctor  paid  no  attention  to  the 
ejaculation  upon  the  part  of  Fearless 
Fred,  nor  did  he  ask  any  further  ques- 
tions upon  the  subject  of  the  wound  at 
all,  but  contented  himself  by  doing  his 
professional  duty,  and  he  left  Fred  much 
relieved  by  the  proper  dressing  that  his 
wound  had.  When  he  was  gone,  Fred 
got  on  the  black  silk  dress,  and  it  was 
quite  astonishing  how  well  it  fitted  his 
slim  and  youthful  figure,  so  that  James 
was  quite  astonished,  and  could  not  help 
saying  to  him — 

"Indeed,  sir,  if  anybody  was  only  to 
come  into  the  room  in  a  hurry,  they 
might  take  you  for  a  young  lady.  But 
I'll  soon  dry  your  clothes,  sir,  in  the 
kitchen." 


FE\RLES8  FRED. 


"  Do  so,  Jfimes,  for  I  assure  you  I  feel 
anything  but  comfortable  with  this  kind 
of  apparel  on  rae." 

Jaiaes  left  Fred  to  himself;  and  then, 
as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  and  our 
hero  found  himself  alone,  he  flung  him- 
self into  a  chair,  and  clasping  bis  hands, 
he  said — 

"  Oh,  Jane  !  Jane  !  what  is  your  fate  ? 
What  has  become  of  you,  deprived  of 
my  protection  ?  My  heart  is  full  of 
agony  for  you.  I  must  leave  this  place 
in  search  of  you  as  soon  as  possible,  or 
I  shall  go  mad  with  apprehension.  Sus- 
pense will  kill  rae  !" 

Fred  heard  a  slight  rustling  as  of  ap- 
parel, and  upon  looking  up,  he  saw  Mrs. 
Block  in  the  room. 

Fred  looked  confused. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Block,  "  the  surge- 
pn  tells  me  that,  although  you  have  had 
a  narrow  escape,  your  hurts  are  in  reali- 
ty but  trifling  ;  and  in  the  case  of  a  bul- 
let, why,  I  suppose  an  inch  is  as  good  as 
a  mile,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  yes.  How  much  I 
have  to  thank  you  !" 

"Not  at  all,  Fred— I  think  you  told 
me  that  your  name  was  Fred,  did  you 
not  ?" 

"  I  did,  madam  ;  but  I  did  not  tell  you 
my  other  name.  Fred  is  my  christian 
name.  Oh,  madam,  you  have  been  very 
kind  to  me.  You  have,  without  inquir- 
ing as  to  whether  I  was  deservinjr  of 
such  kindness,  sheltered  me  in  your 
house.  You  have  taken  me  in  and  play- 
ed the  part  of  the  good  Samaritan  to 
me,  and  1  feel  that  to  deceive  yoa  would 
be  but  an  ill  return  for  your  goodness.  I 
am  Fearless  Fred,  and  the  world  will  tell 
you  that  my  profession  is — is — " 


"  Go  on,"  said  the  lady,  calmly. 

"To  rob  upon  the  highways,"  addoJ 
Fred.  "  I  am  Fearless  Fred,  the  high- 
wayman. And  now,  madam,  you  know 
enough  to  hang  me." 

"  Alas !"  said  the  lady,  "  can  this  be 
possible  ?" 

"  It  is  true — it  is  too  true.  I  am  so 
distracted  at  this  moment  for  the  fate  »tf 
one  who  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  the 
world  beside,  that  I  know  not  what  to 
say  to  you,  and  death  would  be  a  r»- 
lease  to  me  from  the  pains  of  my  mind, 
were  it  not  that  I  ^el  I  have  a  duty 
still  to  do  towards  that  woman." 

Mrs.  Block  sat  down  upon  a  chair  op- 
posite to  Fred,  and  looked  at  him  in  si- 
lence for  some  few  moments.  By  the 
expression  of  her  countenance  it  was 
quite  clear  that  she  was  very  much  affect- 
ed. 

"This  is  a  great  grief  to  me,"  she 
said  at  length.  "I  can  hardly  think  it 
possible  that  one  so  young  as  you  are. 
and  one,  as  it  were,  yet  upon  the  very 
threshold  of  existence,  should  have  giv 
en  himself  up  to  such  a  course.  Are 
you  telling  me  the  truth  ?" 

"  I  am,  madllm." 

"  Then  it  is  very — very  sad." 

"  You  feel  that  I  am  not  a  fit  guest 
for  you  to  harbor  here,"  said  Fred,  as  he 
rose.  "I  will  leave  you  at  once,  mad- 
am. I  might,  merely  by  a  forged  tale 
have  deceived  you  as  to  who  and  wj|at  I 
was ;  but  iet  my  faults  and  vices  and 
crimes  be  what  they  may,  no  one  can 
accuse  me  of  ingratitude  or  falsehood. — 
Were  it  at  the  certain  peril  of  my  life  I 
could  not  but  have  told  you  the  truth  ; 
and  now  I  leave  you,  blessing  you,  and 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


ti 


ihankin^  you  for  all  that  you  have  done 
for  me." 

^  "  In  that  dress  ?"  said  Mrs.  Block,  in 
a  low  tone.  "  Do  you  mean  to  go  away 
in  that  dress  ?" 

Fred  was  recalled  at  these  words  to 
the  consciousness  that  he  had  a  black 
Bilk  gown  on,  ami  he  looked  a  little  con- 
fused, as  he  said — 

**  I  must  wait  until  James  brings  me 
my  own  apparel,  I  suppose.  Then,  mad- 
am, I  will  hasten  to  relieve  you  from  my 
presence." 

"  You  will  do  no  such  thing,"  said  the 
lady,  while  a  tear  stole  down  her  cheeks- 
"I  look  upon  your  being  here  as  a  di- 
rect interposition  of  Providence  in  your 
behalf,  and  as  a  great  mercy  to  me  that 
Heaven  has  thought  fit  to  make  me  the 
means  of  restoring  you  to  a  life  of  virtue 
and  usefulness.  You  shall  not  leave 
here.  I  will  protect  you.  All  I  ask  of, 
you  is,  that  you  will  tell  me,  if  you  can 
frankly  and  freely,  that  you  will  sin  no 
more." 

"  Alas  !  I  dare  not !" 

"  Yoji  dare  not  tell  me  so,  or  dare  not 
«in  ?     Which  am  I  to  think  ?" 

"  That  I  dare  not  make  such  a  promise 
to  you." 

"  Well,  it  is  better  that  you  should 
not,  perhaps,  foT  that  shows  that  you 
doubt  your  own  power.  That  power, 
though,  when  once  awakened,  will  grow 
into  strength  ;  and  if  I  can  only  save 
you  from  the  dreadful  fate  that  awaits 
you,  if  you  continue  in  your  course  of 
Clime,  this  will  be  a  very  happy  day  for 
me." 

"  Hear  me,  madam,"  said  Fred.  "  I 
can  fully  appreciate  and  understand  your 
(;oodness,  and  your  wish  ^>  do  all  in  jour 


power  for  mc,  but  there  is  no  such  thing 
in  this  world  for  me  as  another  path 
than  that  which  I  have  already  chostn. 
The  law  and  the  myrmidons  of  the  law 
will  not  permit  me  to  retrace  my  stops. 
I  am  already  a  criminal,  and  there  is 
notliing  before  me  but  the  death  of  one, 
or  that  life  of  daring  and  peril  that  may 
ward  off  such  a  fate  for  a  time." 

"  You  are  wrong." 

Fred  shook  his  head. 

"You  do  not  know,  madam,  so  well 
as  I  do  that  when  the  line  is  passed  that 
separates  right  from  wrong,  there  is  no 
retreat." 

"There  is  a  retreat.  Your  full  and 
free  pardon  from  the  crown  would  surely 
save  you,  would  it  not  f" 

"Oh,  yes;  but " 

"  I  will  get  it  for  you.  I  never  asked 
a  favor  yet  of  one  who  can  grant  such 
favors  if  she  pleases,  and  who  more  than 
once  has  asked  me  if  I  had  such  a  boon 
to  ask.  The  Queen  knows  me,  and  will 
not  refuse  me." 

"  The  Queen,  madam  T 

"  Yes ;  she  will,  for  me,  ask  of  the 
King  your  free  pardon,  and  with  that  in 
your  possession,  surely  all  will  be  well 
and  your  own  path  will  be  freely  open 
before  you." 

Fred  looked  at  the  lady  for  a  moment, 
and  the  tears  gushed  to  his  eyes,  and 
holding  both  his  hands  upon  his  fac« 
he  said — 

"  Oh,  Jane — Jane,  where  are  you  I 
What  has  become  of  you,  that  you  can- 
not hear  this?  It  is  a  dream,  though, 
only  a  dream.  No,  madam,  you  would 
be  refused.  You  do  not  know  my  ca- 
reer. You  see  that  I  look  young,  and  I 
am  what  I  look;  but  you  cannot  guep 


64 


FEAELESS  FRED. 


•t  the  adventures  ihat  I  hire  passed 
through.  Tliore  is  no  mercy  in  this 
world  fur  me  :  I  am  an  outcast  of  soci- 
ety. All  mt" u'o  hands  are  lifted  against 
me.  I  am  hunted,  so  you  will  not  won- 
der that  at  timt-j  I  have  turned  upon  the 
hunters." 

"  Tell  me  strictly,  if  you  can,  what  you 
have  the  most  ti.  hnr.  Tell  me  the  mi- 
nor incidents  of  your  life,  and  then  let 
me  judge  of  you/  situation." 

"  I  will— I  wiL." 

With  great  lapidity,  Fred  sketched 
the  history  of  liio  life  to  Mrs.  Block.  She 
heard  him  with  marked  attention,  and 
then  she  said,  iii  a  low  tone — 

"  Toor  Fred  !  and  is  that  all  ?" 

"  It  is  raadatti,  except  little  matters  of 
no  import." 

"Why,  my  poor  boy,  your  time  has 
been,  for  the  uutsi  part  spent  in  the 
protection  of   the  young  girl  you   speak 

"  Yes,  it  has  ;  aad  if  I  had  a  hundred 
lives,  I  would  lay  vliem  all  down  to  save 
her  from  a  single  )'ang." 

"  But  you  think  you  have  killed  the 
villain,  Bayley  ?" 

"  I  hope  so." 

Mrs.  Block  shook  her  head  at  these 
words. 

"  Do  not  say  you  hope  so,"  she  said. 
•'  I  hope  quite  the  contrary.  But  wait  in 
peace  here.  I  will  m;rke  the  necessary 
inquiries  for  you.  For  a  day  or  two 
you  should  remain  here  until  I  am  able 
to  bring  you  positive  information.  Be 
assurtid  I  have  both  the  means  and  the 
will  to  procure  it." 

"  And  can  you  still,  after  knowing  who 
and  what  I  am,  make  me  welcome  to 
your  house  ?" 

"  I  can.  Your  history  is  a  more 
eventful  than  criminal  one.  I  will  not 
Bay  that  you  have  not  committed  crimes, 
for  you  have  done  so  ;  but  still,  there  is 
nothing  that  might  not,  upon  the  as 
Burance  of  a  different  life  for  the  future, 
be  easily  forgiven.     Rest  in  peace." 

"But,  Jane-" 

"I  doubt  not,  Fred,  but  I  shall  be 
able  to  ascertain  something  concerning 
he»     H  is  quite  Tmj^os»ible   that  such 


events  as  you  have  related  could  t:ik« 
place  upon  the  highway,  and  no  notice 
taken  of  them.  The  news  of  the  at- 
tempt to  take  you,  and  of  the  riot  in 
consequence,  and  of  your  escape,  muet 
be,  even  by  this  time,  well  known.  You 
are  perfectly  safe  here,  though,  I  think 
and  hope;  so  now  be  still  and  calm 
while  I  go  to  get  news  for  you,  and  be 
assured  that  I  will  return  with  some  as 
early  as  possible." 

Fred  could  not  find  language  in 
which  to  express,  his  thanks  to  Mrs. 
Block.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  moun- 
tain were  lifted  off  his  heart,  at  the  idea 
that  she  would  do  all  in  her  power  to  get 
him  intelligence  of  Jane.  To  remove 
from  where  he  was  without  some  au- 
thentic news  regarding  her,  he  felt 
would  be  madness;  so  he  schooled  him- 
self to  patience. 

"  I  sJiall  eagerly  expect  you,  madam," 
he  said,  "and  I  will  strive  to  wait  in 
peace  till  I  have  the  joy  of  seeing  you 
agnin." 

Mrs.  Block  left  him,  and  Fred,  feeling 
a  sense  of  great  uneasiness,  after  parta- 
king of  a  little  repast  that  James  had 
brought  him,  flung  himself  upon  the  sofa, 
and  dropped  into  a  profound  sleep. 

Had  our  hero  knosvn  that  James,  the 
man-servani  was  listening  at  the  door  of 
his  chamber,  and  had  overhead  every 
word  that  passed  between  himself  and 
the  benevolent  Mrs.  Block,  he  would 
have  considered  twice  before  he  laid  him- 
self down  to  sleep. 

Let  us  turn  for  a  few  minuses  from 
Fearless  Fred,  and  look  after  the  unhap- 
py Jane. 

The  body  of  Peter  Bayley  was  lifted 
up,  by  his  men,  and  placed  in  a  carriage, 
and,  together  with  Jane,  conveyed  to  the 
thief-taker's  house  in  London.  It  was 
many  hours  after  his  return  ere  Peter 
Bayley  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his 
wound.  When  he  did,  he  was  quite  pale 
and  thoughtful.  In  fact,  his  mind  was 
running  upon  the  disastrous  results  of 
his  attempt  to  capture  Fearless  Fred,  and 
how  he  could  wreak  his  vengeance  upon 
that  daring  blade.  One  thing  gave  him 
indescribable  pleasure,  viz :  Jaue  was  ia 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


'■^^ 


bis  power.  Tins,  in  the  thief-taker's 
riew,  was  an  important  point  gained. 
How,  the  reader  will  learn  by-and-bye. 
As  soon  as  lie  was  able  to  handle  a  pen, 
Peter  Bay  ley  drew  up  and  despatched 
th&  fJlowincj  note  : 

'•  Peter  IVivley  presents  his  compli- 
ments to  E.  B.  and  begs  to  state  thatsAe 
is  in  safe  keeping.  If  E.  B.  will  bo  so 
good  aa  to  call  in  Newgate  Street,  he 
mav  hear  all  particulars." 


In  less  than  an  hour  after  the  traiiB< 
mission  of  this  letter,  the  party  to  whom 
it  was  addressed  made  his  appearance  at 
the  thief-taker's,  and  wjis  shown  into  the 
reception  room. 

On  entering  the  saloon,  Peter  Bayley 
beheld  a  tall,  stout  man  standing  by  tha 
fire-place. 

Our  readers  have  no  doubt  as  to  who 
he  is.  The  earl,  wlio  has  already  to  such 
an  «xtODt  been  the  persecutor  cf  /anf 


«6 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


was  the  E.  B.  to  whom  Peter  Bayley 
had  Sent. 

"Wdl,  my  lord,"  said  Peter,  "I'll 
trouble  you  to  take  a  good  look  at  me 
before  we  proceed  to  business." 

Tlie  earl  did  look  at  him. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Bayley,  you  do  not 
k>ok  well.  What  has  happened, 
pray?" 

"  ril  tell  you,  my  lord.  I  have  been 
half  killed,  and  in  your  service — I  have 
a  broken  rib  and  in  your  service — I  am 
a  mass  of  bruises  from  top  to  toe,  and  all 
in  your  service.  I  don't  feel  quite  sure 
even  that  a  bullet  is  not  in  my  head  ; 
and  if  it  be,  it  is  all  on  your  account, 
and  in  your  service.  Now,  my  lord, 
what  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Bah  !  What's  the  use  of  sorrow  to 
me  ?  You  know  that  won't  heal  my 
wounds,  nor  compensate  me  for  the  pain 
:)f  them." 

"Certainly  not,"  said  the  earl,  as  he 
took  out  his  pocket-book.  "Pray  ac- 
cept this  one  hundred  pound  note,  Mr. 
Bayley." 

"  Humph  !  Well,  that  is  treating  one 
as  a  gentleman  ought,  and  I  will  accept 
it ;  and  so,  now,  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
the  girl  secure." 

"  it  is  the  best  news  that  I  have 
heard  for  some  time,  Mr.  Bayley ;  and 
as  regards  this  incubus — this  obstruction 
to  all  our  plans " 

"  Your  plans,  my  lord." 

"  Well — well,  my  plans,  if  you  will — 
This  Fearless  Fred — where  is  he  *" 

"  That  1  cannot  just  now  tell  you.  I 
have  some  idea  that  he  is  dead,  but  1 
can't  say  for  a  certainty.  If  not  dead, 
he  is  badly  hurt,  and  will  either  die  or 
fall  into  my  hands  soon." 

"  And — the — cedar-box  ?  have  you  no 
news  of  that  to  give  to  me  ?" 

"  None.  I  fear  we  shall  never  see  it. 
I  feel  assured  that  nothing  but  accident 
will  ever  bring  it  to  light  to  us.  It  is  in 
rain  to  prosecute  either  Fred  or  the  girl 
about  it.  They  will  be  steadfast  to  their 
deaths." 

The  earl  was  silent  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then,  with  a  bitterness  that  he  did 


not  attempt  to  conceal,  he  barst  oui 
with — 

"Oh,  that  villain,  Lolanti !  it  is  h(; 
who  has  brought  all  this  sutfering,  all 
this  anxiety  upon  my  heart — it  was  he 
stole  from  me  the  papers,  and,  afterwards, 
when  he  thought  to  make  my  purse  ever 
at  his  command,  trusted  mc  with  th<» 
fact  that  he  had  possession  of  them,  and 
that  they  were  in  a  cedar  box,  hidden 
from  me.  I  could  easily  have  killed 
him,  but  of  what  use  would  that  have 
been,  since  the  box  was  hidden  ?  With- 
out it  I  know  not  what  to  do. 

"  Well,  my  lord,  people  I  can  find— 
for  they  must  keep  above  ground  to 
breathe  ;  but  a  little  wooden  box  mAy 
easily  bo  hidden  even  from  me.  I  can 
do  no  more.  I  say  that  I  have  the 
girl." 

"  Indeed  !  Actually  beneath  this 
roof — and — and  no  one  knows  that  you 
so  hare  her  ?" 

"  None  but  my  creatures." 

"The  countess  and  I  have  been 
thinking  about  this  girl,  and  we  think 
she  has  gone  through  so  much  that  it 
would  be  quite  as  well  if  she  were  to 
die." 

"  Very  likely,  my  lord." 

"What  can  she  have  to  hope  for  in 
this  world  ?  No  doubt  she  has  been  se- 
duced by  Fearless  Fred,  and  that's  what 
makes  her  so  fond  of  him." 

"  Very  likely  " 

"  And  so,  if  for  the  peace  and  the 
credit  of  everybody  she  were  to  die  quite 
suddenly,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  ;  and 
far — very  far,  indeed,  in  my  opinion 
from  a  iact  to  be  regretted.  You  under- 
stand me  ?" 

"  Yes,  so  far  as  you've  gone." 

"  A  thousand  pounds  is  a  large  sum, 
Mr.  Bayley." 

"  It  IS." 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Bayley,  that  I  would 
give  a  thousand  pounds  to  be  certain  that 
the  girl  was  dead." 

"  Say  two  thousand,  and  I  will  do  it.'' 

"  Agreed." 

"Very  good  ;  and  the  countess  quite 
understands  this,  and  agrees  with  it  V   . 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


«9 


"  She  does,"  said  the  earl,  faintly. 
"  She  siiofiTostiid  it  ?" 

"I  might  have  known  that,  for  if  any- 
thing more  desperately  cruel  than  an- 
other is  suggested  against  a  woman,  it  is 
by  a  woman." 

"  Peace  !  Why  do  you  torture  me  in 
this  way,  Bayley.  Let  it  suffice  that  you 
earn  your  money.  Do  not  preach  to 
me  the  future.  I  say  nothing  of  the  coun- 
Jess.     I  am  nearly  mad  already." 

Art  for  FearUiss  Fred,  I  will  charge 
you  nothing.  1  will  lump  him  into  thi' 
bargain,  for  I  have  some  private  matters 
to  settle  with  that  hasty  young  gentle- 
man, and  I  will  not  rest  until  I  have  set- 
tled them.  As  soon  as  I  can  sit  in  the 
*.iddle,  I  will  be  after  him  like  his  fate." 

"  But,  Bayley,  do  you  not  think  it 
more  tliaii  likely  lie  knows  all  that  the 
papers  in  th«  cedar-box  could  comrauni- 
t-ate  to  hi  in  ?" 

"  No.  If  he  did,  such  knowledge 
would  soon  show  itself  bv  its  results.  If 
he  knew  ihe  story,  which  it  is  of  such 
importance  that  no  one  but  you  and  I 
should  know,  what  would  hinder  him 
■from  at  once  blazoning  it  to  the  world  ? 
Fearless  Fred  wants  not  intellect  or  edu- 
cation ;  he  would  take  steps,  if  he  did 
possess  such  information,  that  you  would 
soon  hear  of." 

"True — true,  Peter  Bayley.  You 
reason  justiv,  and  I  feel  easier  than  I  did 
about  this  Fearless  Fred.  So  now  I  will 
take  leave  of  vou  with  the  thought  that 
the— the >' 

"Murder!" 

"  Well — well,  the  death  of  that  girl  is 
settled.  I  will  tell  the  countess  that  all 
i^  arranged." 

"For  two  thousand  pounds." 

"  Yes,  we  understand  each  other. 
Farewell." 

The  earl  left  Peter  Bayley  alone,  and 
then,  notwithstanding  the  pain  it  gave 
the  villain  so  to  do,  Bayley  paced  his 
room  to  and  fro  for  about  a  quarter  of 
.m  hour,  daring  which  space  of  time  he 
did  not  utter  one  word.  Then  he  flung 
himself  into  a  chair  and  spoke — 

"  Yea,  wl'y  should  I  hesitate  1  I  have 
.ione  w«r8e  deeds  than  that  in  ray  life — 


no,  no,  not  worse — can  the/ebe  a  worse! 
But  I  have  done  as  bad.  These  hands 
have  already  been  dyed  in  blood.  I  have 
gone  so  far  in  the  course  that  has  shap- 
ed itself  out  to  me,  that  to  return  is  im- 
possible, and  so  I  may  as  well  go  un. — 
She  shall  die — yes,  I  will  earn  the  two 
thousand  pounds  of  this  earl,  and  set  bin 
mind  at  rest,  and  then,  too,  if  things 
should  go  wrong  with  me,  as  perchance 
they  may,  for  of  late  I  liave  noticed  that 
some  of  the  magistracy  look  but  coldly 
upon  me,  I  shall  be  able  to  call  upon 
him  to  use  all  his  interest  in  ray  behalf, 
and  he  must  use  it,  knowing  how  fearful 
a  secret  of  his  I  have  in  my  possession. 
Yes,  he  must  servo  me  ;  so,  as  well  for 
that  future  consideration,  as  for  the  mo- 
ney now,  and  the  hatred  I  bear  to  Fear- 
less Fred,  I  will  do  it. 

He  returned  to  his  chamber,  flung 
himself  upon  his  bed,  and  tried  to  sleep 
away  the  pains  that  were  racking  his 
limbs. 

«  •  *  • 

It  is  time  now  that  we  loon.  a  little  af- 
ter Fearless  Fred. 

It  will  be  recollected,  then,  that  w« 
left  him  to  all  appearance,  in  very  good 
quarters,  at  the  house  of  the  kind-heart- 
ed and  benevolent  Mrs.  Block. 

Not  only  had  that  good  lady  succored 
poor  Fred  in  his  distress,  and  paid  him 
every  attention  that  his  wounded  condi- 
tion required,  but  she  had  inquired  into 
his  state  and  condition  in  every  way,  and 
having  learnt  his. 

"  Strange  eventfiil  history," 
she  had,  with  a  philosophy  and  a  hu- 
manity as  rare  as  it  is  beautiful,  deter- 
mined, as  if  it  were  possible  so  to  do,  to 
rescue  that  bold  spirit  from  the  evils  by 
which  it  was  enthralled,  and  to  make  of 
Fred  that  which  he  possessed  every  qual- 
[ification  to  become — a  good  and  profita- 
ble member  of  society. 

And  yet  there  was  a  weight  upon  the 
I  soul  of  Fred  that  he  could  not  account 
1  for.  He  had  been  left  lo  sleep,  and  ho 
I  had  sic  pt  for  a  time,  but  his  rest  was  dis- 
turbed by  strange  images  ;  and  while  at 
I  one  moment  ho  pictured  Jane   in  th« 


•• 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


power  of  the  villain  Bayley,  at  another 
lie  would  start  at  the  sliglitest  noise,  and 
fancy  that  he  lieaid  the  stealthy  sound 
of  footsteps  approaching  to  take  him  to 
a  prison. 

Probably  the  wound  that  Fred  had  re- 
ceived accounted  in  a  great  measure  for 
these  vagaries  of  the  imagination. 

But  it  will  live  in  the  recollection  of 
the  reader,  that,  although  poor  Fred  did 
not  know  that  such  was  the  cafte,  he  had 
ample  reason  to  f.-el  faint  and  disturbed, 
and  full  of  apprehension,  for  James  the 
servant  of  the  good  and  kind  Mrs.  Block, 
had  formed  tlie  diabolical  intention  of 
giving  up  Fred  to  his  foes. 

The  rascal  was  inflamed  with  the  idea 
of  making  at  once  a  considerable  sum  of 
money,  by  giving  Fred  into  the  hands  ot 
the  authorities. 

It  must  have  been  some  sort  of  pre- 
science of  the  danger  that  was  thicken- 
mg  around  him  that  made  Fred  so  rest- 
less, as  he  strove  in  vain  to  repose  him- 
self in  tbe  house  of  Mrs.  Block. 

That  lady  was  as  good  as  her  word  to 
Fred.  At  tii-st  she  thought  of  goino-  her- 
self to  London  at  once,  and  doing  what 
she  could  for  him,  but  then  she  be- 
thought herself  that  there  was  a  Mr. 
Newcomb  in  one  of  the  public  offices, 
with  whom  she  would  like  to  consult 
first ;  not  by  any  idea  of  taking  his  ad- 
vice, as  to  whether  or  no  she  should  be- 
friend Fred — oh,  no;  upon  that  point 
she  was  quite  decided — but  he  could  tell 
her  where  the  court  then  was,  and  the 
state  of  parties  and  aftairs  there. 

The  fact  was,  Uiat  Mrs.  Block,  in  con- 
sequence of  some  early  passages  of  her 
history,  had  a  strong  claim  UDon  the 
gratitude  of  the  Queen,  and  it  was  the 
Queen's  interest  with  the  king  that  she 
intended  to  use  in  the  favor  of  Fearless 
Fred. 

While  James  was  making  his  arrange- 
ments to  be  off  to  London  to  betray 
Fred,  Mrs,  Block  was  writing  the  letter 
to  Mr.  Newcomb,  requesting  him  to  come 
to  her  forthwith,  and  thinking  that  she 
was  taking  the  first  step  to  save  her 
young  guest. 

It   was  just  as  James  was  sneakinj^ 


I  along  the  hall  of  the  house  to  leave  i^ 
that  Mrs.  Block  appeared  at  her  parlo# 
door  with  tlie  letter  in  her  hand,  intend^ 
ing  to  call  him. 

"  James,"  she  said,  "  I  have  a  letter 
that  I  want  delivered  in  London.  Do 
you  know  Whitehall?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"Very  well.  You  will  ask  for  the 
Home  Office,  and  then  deliver  this  lettei 
to  the  gentleman  to  whom  it  is  address- 
ed. Do  not  spare  any  expense  in  get- 
ting to  London,  for  this  is  a  business  1 
want  settled  as  soon  as  it  possibly  can 
be." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am.  Perhaps  1 
might  as  well  go  to  the  Unicorn  Ini>,  nnd 
hire  a  horse." 

"  Do  so." 

In  five  minutes  more,  the  treacherous 
servant  was  on  bis  way  to  London. 

At  the  close  of  the  day,  there  was  a 
loud  knocking  at  the  gate.  Fearless  Fred 
approached  tlie  window  of  his  chamber, 
and  pulling  the  curtain  slightly  aside, 
looked  out  to  observe  who  it  was  that  de« 
manded  admittance.  Ilis  keen  eye  de- 
tected one  man  at  the  gate,  and  five  oth- 
ers concealed  behind  a  clump  of  trees, 
some  few  rods  up  the  road.  A  glance 
was  sufficient  to  inform  the  young  high- 
wayman that  they  were  Bow  street  offi- 
cers.    In  spite  of  himself,  he  trembled. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Fred?"  asked 
Mrs.  Block,  who  was  sewing  at  a  little 
circular  tabk.  "Do  you  see  any  cause 
for  alarm  ?" 

Fred  informed  her  of  the  state  of  af- 
fairs. The  kind-hearted  old  lady  started 
up,  pale  with  terror. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?"  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands. 

"  1  have  it,"  answered  Fred,  smiling. 
"  You  see,  madam,  that  I  am  rather  fair 
and  youthful  in  the  face,  and  about  the 
same  height  of  your  servant.  Now,  1 
tliitikifshe  would  lend  me  one  of  hei 
dresses,  and  a  cap,  that  I  could  very  well 
manage  to  elude  the  officers,  even  if  they 
should  come  into  the  very  house,  and  see 
me." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  chance  that  shall 
not   be   thrown   away.     We    will    see, 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


60 


then,  if  between  us  we  cannot*  disguise 
you." 

The  girl  was  summoned,  and  made  ac- 
quainted witli  tile  plan,  in  which  she  at 
once,  with  groat  good-nature,  acquiesced, 
so  that  Fri'd  was  at  once  equipped,  al- 
though, he  wore  the  greater  portion  of 
his  own  clothing  beneath  the  dress  that 
the  servant  lent  him.  When  his  hair 
was  parted  in  the  middle,  and  a  comb 
placed  on  each  side,  and  a  cap  put  upon 
his  head,  he  looked  so  well,  that  Mrs. 
Block  was  astonished  there  could  be 
•uch  a  metamorphosis,  and  but  that  he 
strode  along  in  too  masculine  a  manner 
in  his  dress,  no  one  could,  at  a  casual 
glance,  have  had  any  suspicions  that  he 
was  any  other  than  what  he  represented 
himself  to  be." 

"  If  the  officers  do  come,  Mr.  Fred," 
saia  the  girl,  "you  must  take  short 
steps,  you  know,  and  not  walk  in  that 
way." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,"  said  Fred.  "  I 
will  act  my  part  well  enough,  you  may 
be  assured." 

"I  do  believe  he  will,"  said  Mrs. 
Block ;  "  but  how  does  your  arm  and 
shoulder  feel  ?  I  am  much  afraid  that 
your  wound  will  pain  you." 

"No.  It  is  wonderfully  better. — 
Youth  is  in  my  favor,  I  suppose,  and  a 
good  constitution,  for  it  is  astonishing 
how  soon  I  get  the  better  of  any  hurt. 
I  do  believe  that  I  shall  soon  be  well." 

The  ring  that  a  second  time  had 
struck  upon  their  ears  was  a  very  sharp 
one,  and  Mrs.  Block  hastened  to  the  gar- 
den to  see  who  it  was.  Fearless  Fred 
and  the  servant  went  after  her  ;  but  not 
so  closely  as  to  make  it  seem  that  they 
had  all  gone  to  the  gate  together. 

It  was  now  rather  dark,  so  that  the 
garden  was  nearly  a  mass  of  shade, 
owing  to  the  tall  trees  that  were  close 
to  the  gate  ;  and  it  was  but  indistinctly 
that  the  figure  of  a  man  could  be  seen 
there. 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Block's  ?"  he  said,  when 
yhe  saw  that  lady  approaching. 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh,  then,  I  bring  a  letter  from  a 
g«ntlemau  in  London  for  her,  \yhiuh  he 


I  told  me  required  an  answer,  if  you  will 
be  so  good  as  to  give  it  tc  her.  It  i« 
from  a  gentleman  in  the  Treasury." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?"  said  Mrs, 
Block. 

"  Well,  it's  on  a  card  I  have  some- 
where ;  but  really  I  forgot  it.  It's — it's 
— Dear  me,  what  is  it  ?  However, 
ma'am,  if  you  will  let  me  inside  the  gate, 
I  will  give  the  letter,  if  you  please." 

"  You  can  easily  give  it  to  me  over 
the  gate." 

"  Oh,  but  that  don't  seem  the  right 
sort  of  thing,  does  it,  now,  ma'am  ?  Ha! 
ha  !     That  will  do." 

There  was  a  sudden  rush  from  tne 
patliway  leading  to  the  back  garden  of 
some  four  or  five  men,  and  Mrs.  Block, 
and  the  servant,  and  Fearless  Fred,  found 
themselves  at  once  piisonevs. 

"  Now,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  "  now, 
I  think,  we  are  all  right." 

"Alas!  Alas!"  ailded  Mrs.  Block, 
"  has  it  come  to  this  ?     All  is  lost!" 

"  Yes,  you  may  say  th;it,"  said  the 
man.  "Jackson,  you  keep  an  eye  on 
these  girls  here,  while  you,  Brown,  look 
to  the  old  lady.  This  isn't  a  bad  un,  is 
it,  ma'am  !  You  see,  we  wanted  to  keep 
you  from  giving  the  wink  to  Fearless 
Fred,  for  we  know,  bless  you,  as  well  as 
if  we  had  him,  that  he  is  in  the  house 
somewhere." 

These  words  at  once  had  the  efiect  of 
letting  Fred  and  Mrs.  Block  and  the  ser- 
vant know  that  he  was  completely  un- 
suspected, and  that  his  disguise  had  im- 
posed upon  the  officers.  Fred  had  a  pret- 
ty good  talent  in  disguising  and  altering 
his  voice,  but  he  thought  it  best  to  say 
nothing.  The  servant,  however,  told 
them  tliat  they  were  an  unmanly  set  of 
wretches,  and  addressing  Fred  as  Maria, 
she  said — 

"  Don't  you  cry,  Maria.  I  don't  be- 
lieve they  will  catch  him  even  now,  if 
they  luuit  for  him  ever  so." 

"  lie  is  not  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs. 
Block.  ^ 

"  No,  ma'am,  perhaps  he's  in  the  bach 
garden,  this  time — ha!  ha!"  said  the 
chief  of  the  officers.  "  Come  along. 
comrades,  come,  and  seek  the  fox.     W« 


TO 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


Bhjrfl  see  whether  these  women  are  able 
to  thwart  us  by  giving  an  alarm  to 
him." 

"  There's  only  need  of  one  of  us  to 
Btay  here,"  growled  the  officer  named 
Brown.  "  I'll  look  arter  these  female 
customers  that  they  don't  come  after 
you,  for  that's  all  we  need  care  about." 

"  Very  well ;  you  stay  with  them,  and 
you,  Jackson,  come  with  me." 

Jackson  was  the  man  at  the  gate,  and 
when  the  other  officers  made  their  appear- 
ance, he  had  amused  himself  by  kicking 
the  door  until  he  had  broken  it,  so  that 
the  gate  was  swinging  on  its  hinges.  He 
and  the  rest  of  the  officers,  chuckling 
together  on  the  prospect  of  speedily  ap- 
prehending Fred,  left  the  first  gate  to  the 
care  of  Brown,  who,  when  he  was  alone 
with,  as  he  supposed,  the  three  females, 
said,  in  what  he  intended  to  be  quite  a 
jocular  tone  of  voice — 

"  Now,  as  for  you  two,  my  dears,  who 
are  young  girls,  I  shall  kiss  the  first  one 
tliat  tries  to  get  away,  and  as  for  you, 
Mrs.  Block,  I  shall  put  a  pair  of  hand- 
cuffs on  you,  if  you  are  at  all  trouble- 
some." 

"  Oh,  you  are  an  ugly  brute,*'  said  the 
-servant. 

"Ami?     Ha!  ha!" 

"  You  are,  indeed,"  said  Fred,  speak- 
ing in  a  capital  female  voice.  "  I  only 
wish  my  young  man  was  here,  that's  all, 
he'd  soon  settle  you." 

"  Settle  me,  Avould  he  ?     Ha  !  ha  !" 

"  Yes,  he  would  ;  and  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  hit  you  myself,  I  have." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  ?  Ha  !  ha  !— 
Hit  me  as  hard  as  you  can,  my  dear,  and 
I  won't  say  anything.  I  will  only  give 
you  a  kiss,  mind  you,  if  you  don't  knock 
iri«  down.  Do  you  think  you  could 
knock  me  down  ?" 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Well,  that's  a  pretty  idea.  Would 
you  like  to  try  ?  You  shall,  now,  if  you 
will  agree  that  if  you  don't  knock  me 
down  I  may  kiss  you." 

*'  So  you  may ;  but  down  you  shall 
gg,"  said  Fred  holding  up  his  fist  in  such 
"'"  sulcus   way,  that  Mr.  Brown   was 


quite  delighted  at  the  fun  of  the  thing, 
and  said — 

"  Hit  away,  now — hit  away.  No 
scratching,  mind — I  won't  stand  it.** 

"  Oh,  don't  touch  him,  Maria,"  said 
Mary,  "don't." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs,  Block, 
*'  you  have  no  more  strength  than  a  cat. 
Don't  touch  him  ;  you  must  be  mad." 

"  Come — come,"  said  Brown,  "let  the 
girl  be.  Fair  play,  you  know,  all  the 
world  over.  If  I  like  to  allow  her  to 
hit  me,  what  need  you  care  ?  She  can't 
hurt  me,  and  I  won't  hurt  her.  Come 
on,  ray  dear ;  you  may  try  your  best. — - 
Come  on.- 

"  May  I  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  you  may.  There,  now, 
you  are  getti-ng  frightened." 

"  Why,  yes,  you  might  hit  me  if  you 
got  into  a  passion." 

"  No !     I  tell  you  I  won't.*^ 

"  Very  well,  then  you  stand  still. — 
Don't  move,  now,  you  ugly  fellow.  I 
don't  suppose  you  will  tumble  far." 

"Far?  That  is  good.  Ha!  ha! 
Come,  now,  I  want  the  kiss  that  I  am  to 
have  afterwards,  you  know." 

Fred  advanced  upon  the  officer,  still 
holding  up  hie  clenched  right  hand  in  a 
manner  that  convinced  Brown  he  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  its  weight,  but  at 
the  moment  that  he,  Brovjfn,  was  burst- 
ing out  into  another  laugh  at  the  fun  of 
the  thing,  Fred  threw  himself  into  an- 
other attitude,  and  with  the  rapidity  of 
thought,  dealt  Mr.  Brown  two  such 
straightforward  hits  in  the  face  that  he 
was  thoroughly  bewildered  ;  and  then, 
before  he  could  in  any  way  recover  or 
gasp  out  an  alarm,  another  tremendous 
hit  in  the  stomach  sent  him  backwards, 
quite  insensible,  into  a  holly-bush,  where 
he  lay  embedded,  and  to  all  appearance 
dead. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Fred.  "Mrs. 
Block,  farewell.  I  feel  that  to  remain 
here  any  longer  would  be  only  to  endan- 
ger you  without  saving  myself.  Fare- 
well, and  Heaven  bless  you." 

As  he  spoke,  Fred  flung  his  arm  round 
the  neck  of  Mrs.  Block,  and  kissed  her  , 
and  then  turning  to  Mary,  bo  added — • 


FEARLESS  FKED. 


71 


"  Ad<1  y.^u,  too,  Mary,  I  have  much  to 
thank  for.  Good-bye,  and  God  blew 
you,  too." 

The  kisK  that  Fred  gave  Mary  came 
off  capitally,  and  Mary,  as  she  cried — 
"  Well,  I'm  sure,  what  next  ?"  did  not 
seem  very  vexed  at  it. 

"  Stop — stop  !"  cried  Mrs.  Block. 

Fred  only  waved  his  hand,  and  then 
darting  out  at  the  garden-gate,  was  in  a 
few  minutes  quite  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"  Murder — murder  !"  shouted  Mr. 
Brown.  "  Help !  Oh,  murder !  The 
devil  !     Murder !" 

We  need  not  trouble  our  readers  with 
a  detail  of  what  took  place  at  Mrs. 
Block's  after  the  departure  of  Fred.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  the  officers  were  quite 
convinced  Fred  had  given  them  the  slip, 
and  that,  after  some  threatenings  of  what 
they  would  do  with  the  old  lady  and  her 
servant  for  aiding  and  assisting  him,  they 
left  the  house. 

We  now  follow  particularly  the  for- 
tunes of  Fred  after  he  had  disappeared 
from  before  the  grieved  eye  of  Mrs. 
Block. 

The  darkness  was  now  so  great  that 
after  getting  a  little  way  from  the  cot- 
tage he  might  fairly  consider  that  he 
was  safe  from  immediate  pursuit,  for  it 
was  quite  out  of  the  question  that  any 
one  could  take  upon  himself  to  say  in 
which  direction  he  had  gone. 

Still,  Fred  was  not  without  an  expec- 
tation that  the  officers  would  search  the 
neighborhood  for  him,  and  so  his  idea 
was  (0  get  out  of  it  as  quickly  as  he  pos- 
sibly could. 

With  great  speed  he  ran  on  past  the 
few  houses  that  were  in  the  in)mediate 
vicinity  of  Mrs.  Block's  cottage,  and 
then  when  he  got  to  a  part  of  the  road 
which  presented  upon  each  side  nothing 
but  hedges,  he  managed,  with  some  diffi 
culty,  to  climb  up  and  get  into  a.  mea- 
dow. 

Having  thus  far,  then,  effected  his  es- 
c!ipi\  Fred  thought  he  would  stop  and 
listen,  with  the  hope  of  discovering  if 
his  foes  were  near  at  hand  or  not. 

Lying  flat  upon  the  ground,  he  gave 
Ids  whole  attention  to  that  id(a,  but  he 


heard  nothing.  It  was  quite  clear  to 
him  then  that  eiuher  the  officei-s  had  not 
yet  left  Mrs.  Block's  garden,  or  that  if 
they  had,  they  had  gone  in  a  contrary 
direction  to  that  which  he  had  taken. 

The  former  supposition  waa  the  correct 
one. 

"  And  now,"  said  Fred,  as  he  partially 
raised  himself  and  rested  upon  his  arm, 
"  and  now,  how  do  I  stand,  as  regards 
m)'^  prospects  and  obligations.  First, 
here  I  am,  a  lawless  wanderer,  without 
arms — without  money — without  food, 
and  without  a  friend  in  the  world  whom 
T  could  choose  to  commit  by  going  to.— ' 
Well,  that  is  a  pretty  collection  of  with 
outs.  Now,  what  else  is  there  to  think 
of  ?  The  police  in  search  of  me — a  price 
set  upon  my  head.  Yes,  that  is  about  it 
— and — and  " 

Alas  !  there  was  something  upon  the 
mind  of  poor  Fred  that  he  would  have 
put  first  in  his  list  of  troubles  and  anxie- 
ties, only  that  it  was  so  great  an  anxiety 
that  he  dreaded  to  name  it  to  himself 
even. 

"  Jane !"  he  at  length  managed  to 
gasp  out.  "  My  poor  Jane,  where  are 
you  ?" 

This  overpowering  reflection,  now, 
that  he  really  and  truly  suffered  his  mind 
to  dwell  upon  it,  had  such  an  effect  up- 
on Fred,  that  he  sunk  down  amid  the 
long  damp  grass,  and  there  he  lay  for  a 
long  time  as  if  death  at  last  had  smittaa 
him. 

Nothing  but  youth  and  its  powerful 
principle  of  resistance  to  all  depressions, 
whether  physical  or  mental,  could  possi- 
bly have  got  Fred  over  the  state  into 
which  he  was  cast  by  these  sad  thought* 
of  Jane  ;  but  he  did  recover,  an4  sitting 
up  again,  he  murmured  out — 

"  Oh,  Heaven  protect  her !  I  am  con- 
tent to  perish  even  now  upon  this  spot, 
with  no  gentle^voice  to  cheer  me — with 
no  friend  to  say  '  God  bless  you,'  when 
I  close  my  eyes  for  ever,  if  she  be  sav- 
ed." 

It  was  the  dreadful  idea  that  she  had 
fallen  intc  the  hands  of  Peter  Bayley, 
that  haunted  poor  Fred  so  bitterly,  fol 
as  yet,  he  had  no  evidence  that  Bayley 


t9 


FEAKLESS  FRED. 


was  killed  or  even  dangerously  hurt  by 
the  pistol  shot  that  he  had  sent  at  his 
head  with  such  good  will. 

In  fact,  reasoning  from  his  own  escape, 
he  thought  that  nothing  was  more  pro- 
bable but  that  Bayley  had  been  equally 
fortunate. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  he  now  said.— 
•^Ob,  what  can  I  do  to  aid  you,  Jane  ? 
Will  not  ?[eaveu  be  good  enough  to 
point  out  to  me  some  course  of  action 
now  ?  for  surely  the  cause  that  I  would 
embark  in  is  a  holy  one  :  it  is  the  pro- 
tection of  innocence  and  simplicity 
against  guilt  and  craft." 

Fred  had  got  thus  far  in  this  extempo- 
raneous despondency,  as  we  may  call  it, 
for  it  partook  very  much  of  the  charac- 
ter of  one,  when  he  heard  approachino- 
horsemen  in  the  road,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hedge,  and  he  paused  to  listen. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  a  bit  of  use,"  said 
a  voice,  "  but,  however,  I  will  keep  guard 
here,  if  you  like." 

"  Do  so,"  said  another  voice,  "  and 
the  discharge  of  one  of  your  pistols  will 
be  a  signal  that  you  have  made  some 
discovery,  and  we  shall  be  sure  to  hear 
it,  and  then  we  will  all  bury  from  our 
posts  to  this  spot." 

Those  voices  were  the  voices  of  the 
officers. 

"  Ah,"  thought  Fred,  "so  they  are  up- 
on ray  track,  are  they  ?  I  must  be  care- 
ful." 

He  crept  close  to  the  hedge,  and  laid 
himself  right  under  it  in  a  dry  furrow 
that  was  there,  and  which  in  wet  weath- 
er was,  no  doubt,  a  watery  course. 

"  I  am  certain,"  added  the  officer,  who 
had  last  spoken,  "  that  he  cannot  be  far 
off.  He  is  wounded,  as  we  all  know, 
and,  besides,  he  has  had  no  time  to  get 
to  a  distance,  and  if  he  be  hiding,  you 
know,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  wait  for 
daylight,  and  we  must  have  him." 

"  A  precious  long  time,  that,"  said  an- 
other. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it." 

"  Yes,  it  is,  though.  It's  a  good  eight 
hours  now  till  daylight,  and  no  mistake." 

"  Very  -well,  all  I  can  say  is,  that  you 
are  your  own  master  in  the  matter,  and 


you  can  go  >r  stay  as  you  like ;  onl) 
when  we  do  catch  Fred  there  will  be  tha 
more  for  them  who  are  in  at  the  last  of 
it,  if  there  are  fewer  to  divide  it  among."       .1 

"  Come,  now  ;  do  go,  Wilks,"  said  an-      l| 
other.  ^' 

"  I  shan't." 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  old  fellow  ; 
but  don't  let  us  have  any  bilking  among 
ourselves.  If  we  once  begin  upon  that, 
sort  of  thing,  there  is  no  saying  where 
it  will  end." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  any  grumbling," 
said  Wilks.  "Let's  say  no  more  about 
it.  I'll  keep  watch  here,  till  you  send 
for  me." 

"  That  will  do,  all's  right." 

The  others,  upon  this,  walked  off,  and 
in  a  few  moments,  Fred  heard  the  officer 
who  remained,  say  to  himself,  as  he 
thought — 

"This  is  rather  uncomfortable  work, 
though,  being  out  all  night  after  the 
chap.  What  the  deuce  can  have  come 
of  him,  I  wonder  ?  I  don't  recollect 
having  so  much  trouble  after  one  of  his  / 
trade  before.  Bother  him,  I  only  wish 
I  could  catch  him,  I  should  feel  half  in- 
clined to  take  him  to  London  alone, 
and  bilk  the  others  out  of  any  of  the 
rewards." 

This  seemed  to  the  officer  to  be  such 
a  capital  idea,  that  he  quite  chuckled 
over  it  again,  and  it  reconciled  him  in  a 
great  measure  to  his  lonely  wat(;h  on  the 
road.  After  a  little  time,  then,  he 
walked  his  horse  for  some  distance  off, 
and  then  returned,  and  so  went  to  and 
fro,  for  the  space  of  about  a  quarter  of 
a  minute  only,  from  the  spot  so  close  to 
which  was  Fearless  Fred,  whom  ht, 
would  have  been  so  delighted  to  cap- 
ture. 

"This  won't  do,"  said  Fred.  "It'? 
perfectly  true,  as  one  of  those  fellows 
said,  that  if  they  wait  till  daylight  they 
will  have  me  as  safe  as  possible.  No — 
this  won't  do.  I  must  be  off  before 
then." 

The  present  danger  offered  to  him, 
had  the  effect  of  enabling  Fred  to  sum- 
mon up  all  his  energies  again  to  the  tast 
of  repelling  it,  and  after  a  time  he  partly 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


7S 


ro6o  up,  and  tried  to  look  through  the 
hedge,  to  see  what  sort  of  man  the  offi- 
<;ftr  was.  The  darkness  was  too  intense, 
though,  to  enable  him  to  do  that ;  all  he 
nould  see  was  the  dim  shadowy  looking 
outlinas  of  a  man  and  a  horse. 

"  If  I  had  but  arms,"  thought  Fred, 
"  I  could  face  that  fellow  and  then  get 
away  ;  but,  alas  I  I  have  not.  Well,  I 
must  try  to  cross  the  meadow,  and  see 
where  that  will  lead  me  to,  although,  if 
ihey  are  occupying  all  the  roads  in  the 
way  they  threatened,  I  may  not  much 
better  myself  by  so  doing." 

But  looking  now  carefully  along  the 
surface  of  the  meadow,  Fred  felt  quite 
confident  that  he  saw  a  light  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  that  determined  him,  for  he 
thought  it  possible  enough  it  might 
proceed  from  some  laborer's  cottage, 
where  there  would  be  no  disinclination 
to  give  him  food  and  shelter  for  a  little 
time. 

There  was  no  great  risk  in  crossing  the 
meadow  so  far  as  the  officer  was  con- 
cerned,  for  it  was  too  dark  by  a  great 


waited,  and  prepared  for  the  encounter 
as  well  as  he  could. 

In  the  course  of  another  moment  the 
dog  came  bounding  towards  him,  growl- 
ing and  barking.  I 

"  Down  sir  !"  cried  Fred. 

This  was  answered  by  a  growl,  and  the 
creature  flew  at  him. 

In  the  darkness,  Fred  had  no  means 
of  seeing  what  sort  of  a  dog  it  was,  but 
he  was  soon  engaged  in  a  struggle  with 
it  for  his  life. 

The  first  snap  that  the  creature  made 
at  him  forunately  only  got  hold  of  the 
cuff  of  his  coat,  and  then  finding  which 
direction  the  dog's  head  was  in,  Fred 
tried  the  only  thing  that  was  in  hia 
power  to  do  with  any  chance  of  effect, 
and  that  was,  to  lay  hold  of  the  animal'o 
throat. 

In  a  few  moments  Fred  got  his  handb 
linked  round  the  dog's  neck,  and  nerved 
by  desperation,  he  executed  a  pressure 
that  under  ordinary  circumstances  he 
would  not  have  been  able  to  do. 

The  dog  made  a  choking  sort  of  noise, 


deal  for  him  to  see  Fred,  and,  besides,  as  I  and  that  encouraged  Fred,  who  held  still 
each  moment  would  increase  the  distance  tighter  each  moment  till  he  felt  the  crea- 
between  them,  of  course  Fred's  safety  ture  hanging  senseless  from  his  hands, 
was  increased  in  proportion.  1  Giving  the  body  a  powerful  swing  then, 

Gliding  along,  then,  quite  close  to  the  I  Fred  threw  it  right  over  the  hedge  into 
jround,  Fred  got  across  the  field  to  the  ;  the  meadow,  and  then,  exhausted  by  the 
opposite  hedge,  and  then  he  saw  that  |  struggle,  he  fell  to  the  ground  himself, 
there  was  a  kind  of  copse  on  the  other  |  and  lay  for  about  ten  minutes  unable  to 
side,  and  not  a  road  of  any  sort,  as  he ;  move  hand  or  foot, 
had  expected.  I      Fred   gradually    recovered    from  this 

After  some  deliberation,  he  resolved  j  state,  and  to  his  great  satisfaction,  he 
to  proceed,  although  he  had  lost  sight  i  felt  that  he  had  not  suffered  from  the 
(if  the  ligiit  which  had  been  the  original  [  teeth  of  the  ferocious  dog. 
inducement  for  him  to  go  in  that  direc-  I  "  I  will  go  on,"  he  said.  "  Surely  the 
tion.  Crossing  the  hedge,  he  went !  people  of  the  house — for  there  must  be 
through  the  trees  of  a  young  plantation  lone  near  at  hand — will  not  refuse  to 
for  a  little  time,  until  he  suddenly  heard  1  allow  me  to  lie  down  and  rest  for  a  few 
the  barking  of  a  dog.  [  hours.     I  must  not  tell  them  of  the  fate 

Fred  paused  in^t^antly.  of  this  dog." 

The  dog  barked  fiercely,  and  was  evi-        With  this  feeling,  Fred  made  his  way 


dently  coming  through  the  plantation 
towards  him,  and  there  was  poor  Fred, 
quite  unarmed,  and.  consequently,  unable 
to  offer  but  a  very  slight  resistance  to  the 
Httack  of  the  dog  if  it  should  make  a 
riiBh    upon    him.       Nevertheless,    Fred 


through  the  little  plantation,  till  he 
came  to  some  iron  hurdles,  which  he 
clambered  over,  and  then  he  found  him- 
self in  a  farm-yard.  There  was  a  cow- 
house close  to  him,  and  a  glance  within 
if  showed  him  that  there  was  a  quantity 


u 


FEAELESS  FRED. 


of  straw  there ;  but  he   lid  not  think 
that  it  was  occupied  by  any  animal. 

Feeling  very  much  fatigued,  and 
feeling  assured  that  if  4ie  were  to 
attempt  to  go  much  further  he  would 
have  to  stop  in  some,  perhaps,  much 
less  eligible  spot  than  that  he  was  now 
in,  Fred  went  into  the  cow-house,  and 
flung  himself  down  among  the  straw  in 
a  moment. 

When  he  was  lying  down  he  could 
hear  by  the  breathing  that  a  cow  was 
in  the  place  with  him  ;  but  as  he  could 
not  feel  the  creature  by  moving  hia 
hands  about,  he  concluded  that  it  was 
not  near  him  at  all. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  in  a  low  faint  voice, 
"  tkere  is  room  enough  for  you  and  me 
both,  cow,  so  I  shall  go  to  sleep." 

With  these  words,  Fred  closed  his 
eyes,  and  was  fast  asleep  in  half  a 
minute. 

It  was  very  far  from  the  nature  of 
Fred  to  sleep  very  many  hours  in  that 
place.  He  hoped  that  somewhere  about 
the  dawn  of  day  he  would  be  able  to 
awaken  ;  but  it  is  very  doubtful  if  he 
would  have  done  so  had  it  not  been  for 
the  cow. 

Fred  dreamt  that  he  was  in  a  ship  at 
sea,  and  that  the  crew  wer«  trying  to 
roll  hira  overboard,  and  when  he  woke 
up  he  found  that  a  large  brindled  cow 
was  pushing  him  with  her  nose  and  look- 
ing at  hiui  with  surprise. 
"Hilloa!"  said  Fred. 
The  cow  made  a  noise  as  of  pleasure 
to  hear  him  speak,  and  f  red  was  glad 
even  of  the  companionship  of  that  poor 
beast  at  the  time,  and  stretching  out  his 
hand,  he  patted  it  on  the  head. 

"  Well,  cow,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  we 
must  bid  each  other  good-by,  now,  and 
thank  you  for  a  share  of  your  lodging 
for  the  night,  my  good  friend.  You  are 
more  kind  and  humane,  probably,  than 
those  who  own  you." 

The  loud  crowing  of  a  cock  in  the 
farm-yard  without  now  attracted  Fred's 
itteution,  and  he  rose  and  looked  out 
from  the  cow's  lodgings. 

The  morning  was  just  commencing. 
Objects   in  the  farm-jard  were  clearly 


visible,  and  a  slight  summer's  rain  ma» 
falling,  which  gave  to  the  air  such  a 
freshness,  that  of  itself  it  was  quite  a  lux- 
ury to  breathe  it.  A  quantity  of  poul 
try  had  begun  poking  about  in  the  yard 
for  a  morning  meal,  and  some  ducks  wer* 
waddling  off  to  a  pond  that  was  in  one 
corner.  No  human  being,  though,  wa» 
yet  visible  in  the  pKce. 

"  Breakfast,  now,"  said  Fred  to  him- 
self, Rs  he  looked  about  him,  "  would  be 
no  bad  thing." 

At  that  moment  he  heard  some  one 
whistling,  and  a  farmer's  boy  came  into 
the  yard.  Fred  did  not  think  it  prudent 
to  hide  ;  so  he  stepped  forward  at  once, 
and  spoke  to  the  lad. 

"  Hilloa  !  Whose  place  is  this,  my 
good  fellow  ?     Can  you  tell  me  ?" 

No  sooner  had  these  words  passed 
the  lips  of  Fearless  Fred,  than  the  boy 
set  up  a  shout  of  alarm,  that  might 
have  been  heard  a  mile  off,  and  then  he 
cried  out — 

"  Here's  one  of  'em  !  oh  here's  one 
of  'em,  master  !  Come  and  catch  this 
one  of  'em  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Fred. 
"  Master — master,  here's  one  of  'em  ! 
Come  and  catch  this  one.     Oh,  murder  1 
Here  he  is  !" 

These  cries  brought  to  the  spot  a 
thick-set,  cross-grained  looking  man, 
who  shouted  out — 

"  What's  all  this  about— hey  ?" 
"  There  he  is,  master !  That's  one 
of  the  fellows.  Don't  you  see  him, 
master  ?  Only  look  what  an  ill-looking 
wagabond  he  is,  to  be  sure.  Oh,  he's 
one  of  'em." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  the  man.  "  So, 
young  fellow,  I  have  caught  you  at  last, 
have  I  V 

Fred  shook  his  head,  as  he  said- 
"  I  wish  I  knew  what  you  mean.     1 
declare  I  do  not." 

"  Oh,  don't  you  ?  I  daresav  you 
are  very  innocent,  my  fine  fellow ;  but 
we  will  soon  alter  your  tone.  What 
do  you  mean  by  being  on  my  pre- 
mises ?" 

"  I  am  cold,  hungry,  and  ill,  and  I 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


75 


merely  crept  into  the  cow-house  to 
sleep,     I  will  go  uow." 

"  No  you  won't,  though." 

"  Wherefore  would  you  detain  me  ? 
I  have  taken  nothing  from  you ;  and 
after  the  specimen  I  have  had  of  your 
temper,  I  shall  go,  asking  nothing  of  you, 
although  I  am  almost  famishing.  Fare- 
well, sir." 

"  Oh,  don't  you  think  it  You  ain't 
going  in  that  kind  of  way.  Bill — Bill, 
I  say  !"' 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  Bring  me  that  hay  rope,  yonder, 
and  I  will  just  tie  the  hands  of  this 
young  spark  behind  him,  and  then  you 
can  take  the  cart-whip,  and  drive  him  to 
the  cage." 

"  Yes,  master." 

"And  do  you  think,"  said  Fearless 
Fred,  "  that  even  ill,  and  weak,  and 
wounded  as  I  am,  I  will  put  up  with 
such  treatment  ?" 

"Ah,  we  shall  see — we  shall  soon  see 
that,  young  fellow.  You'll  put  up  with 
it  fast  enough.     Be  quick.  Bill." 

"  I'm  a  coming,  master." 

Fred  was  so  indignant,  that  he  looked 
at  once  about  him,  now,  for  some  wea- 
pon of  offence  and  defence,  and  observ- 
ing a  hay-fork  close  to  the  door  of  the 
cow-house,  he  caught  it  up,  and  exclaim- 
ing— "  ril  teach  you,  you  old  ruffian,  to 
talk  to  me  in  such  a  way,"  he  dashed 
after  the  farmer. 

Now,  that  British  farmer  was  a  very 
courageous  man  when  he  thoujjlit  there 
was  no  danger,  but  so  soon  as  he  saw 
eause  to  come  to  a  different  opinion,  he 
set  '.i.p  quite  a  howl  of  despair,  and  began 
to  run  off  as  last  as  he  could,  pursued 
by  Fred,  who  just  caught  him  by  the 
iron  hurdles,  and  dealt  him  a  rap  on  his 
thick  skull  with  the  fork  that  sent  him 
rollinc:  into  the  midst  of  a  delightful 
muck-heap  that  there  had  been  estab- 
lished for  some  time. 

"  T;ike  that,"  said  Fred,  "  you  unfeel- 
ing brute." 

The  farmer  was  not  an  unfeeling  brute, 
so  far  as  the  handle  of  the  hay-fork  was 
concerned,  for  he  felt  that,  if  he  never 
felt  anything  in  his  life  before,  ^aud  he  I 


lay  upon  his  back  in  the  muck,  kokinj? 
so  confounded,  that  it  was  not  at  all 
likely  he  would  recover  very  quickly. 

"  Here's  the  rope,  master !"  cried 
Bill,  suddenly  rushing  back.  "  Here's 
the  rope,  master.  It's  all  right.  You 
tie  him  up,  and  I'll  drive  him  with  ths 
cart-whip  to  the  cage,  master." 

"  Will  you  ?"  said  Fred. 

"  Oh,  lor  !     Where's  master  ?" 

"I'll  let  you  know  in  a  moment,'' 
added  Fred,  and  he  charged  with  the 
hay-fork  at  Bill,  who  tlirew  down  the 
rope,  set  off  at  speed  through  the  farm- 
yard towards  the  house,  and  Fred 
followed  him  till  they  got  to  a  fence, 
which  Bill  could  not  get  over  very 
quickly,  so  Fred  gave  him  such  a  hoist 
with  the  hay-fork  in  the  hinder  part  of 
his  anatomy,  that,  with  a  yell  that  was 
enough  to  alarm  the  whole  country,  he 
made  hut  one  spring,  and  lit  in  a  ditch 
over  the  other  side  of  the  fence  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  W^ell  done  Bill,"  said  Fred. 

It  was  quite  clear,  though  now,  that 
after  the  manner  in  which  he,  Fred,  had 
been  met,  and  the  sort  of  repay  n".eii*  he 
had  given  to  that  welcome,  that  ho 
could  not  fairly  expect  anything  at  the 
farm-house,  and,  in  fact,  the  best  thing 
he  could  now  possibly  do,  was  to  get 
away  from  it,  as  quickly  as  he  possibly 
could. 

The  hay-fork,  however,  was  too  good 
a  weapon  to  give  up  until  he  was  quite 
certain  that  he  was  clear  of  his  enemies, 
so  he  marched  off  with  it  in  triumph, 
not  hearing  anything  of  either  the 
farmer  or  Bill,  who,  no  doubt  were  both 
under  the  impression  that  discretion  was 
the  better  part  of  valor,  and  that  if  they 
said  anything,  he,  Fre<l  would  salutt* 
them  with  another  taste  of  the  fork. 

Nothing  now  seemed  to  Fred  more 
probable  than  he  would  soon  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  officers,  for  it  was  get- 
ting lighter  each  moment,  and  he  had  a 
full  expectation  that  they  were  still  on 
the  watch. 

Darting  under  the  iron  hurdles,  he 
made  his  way  into  the  plantation,  but 
be  had  not  proceeded  far  before  he  met 


70 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


a  laboring  man  with  a  stick  and  a  bun- 
dle. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  !"  said  the 
man. 

"  Nothing.     Do  not  impede  me." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want,  young  fellow;  but 
what  h;\s  happened?" 

"  I  don't  know.  All  I  want  is  to  leave 
this  inhospitable  place,  where,  in  lieu  of 
H  kind  word  or  a  morsel  of  victuals,  I 
have  been  threatened  by  a  man,  who — 
but  it  don't  matter.  Good  morning — 
good  morning." 

"Stop  a  bit.  I'll  be  bound  but  you 
have  come  across  Farmer  Whitehead." 

"  I  don't  know,  but  his  head  let  it  be 
what  color  it  may,  is  now  in  the  muck- 
heap  ;  for  I  knocked  him  down  with  the 
handle  of  this  fork. 

"  You  did  ?  You  have  knocked  down 
that  old  rascal  Whitehead?  You  don't 
mean  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  and  there  was  a  boy,  too, 
of  the  name  of  Bill.  I  rather  think  he 
will  remember  me." 

"Oh.  that's  better  and  better.  Why, 
Whitehead  is  one  of  the  biggest  old 
Bcamps  in  the  country  ;  and  that  boy, 
Bill,  is  one  of  the  most  cruel,  heartless, 
young  rascals  I  ever  came  near.  They 
[\Ave  got  a  dog,  too,  that  they  call  Bony, 
who  bites  everybody  that  he  comes  near, 
just  for  the  love  of  doing  so,  I  do  think." 

"  Well,  I  throttled  Bony  last  night." 

"  No  1" 

"  Yes,  I  did.  He  attacked  me,  and  it 
was  the  only  way  I  could  get  rid  of  him." 

"  Give  me  thy  hand,  lad.  Well,  if  I 
don't  like  to  hear  all  that.  Oh — oh  ! 
Old  Whitehead  in  the  muck-heap — and 
Bill  poked  with  the  fork — and  Bony 
throttled!  Oh!  ha!— ha!  Oh,  dear  ! 
[  shall  laugh  till  I  cry." 

"  Well,  1  shall  leave  you  to  your  cry- 
ing then,"  said  Fred.  "  I'm  glad  you  are 
Ro  pleased  at  it."  , 

"  Stop  !  Don't  go.     Who  are  you  ?" 

Fred  was  silent. 

The  man  stepped  closer  to  him,  and 
then  added  in  a  lower  tone — 

"  There's  been  some  oflBcers  «earching 
dvery  cottage  for  a  highwayman.  You 
«an't  be  that,  «irely I" 


"They  accuse  me." 

"  Do  they  ?  Well,  nerer  ■,  mind 
Come  with  me,  and  you  will  be  safb 
enough  ;  for  they  won't  come  again,  it's 
at  all  likely,  after  searching  the  cottage 
once.  I'll  be  bound  you  want  youi 
breakfast,  now,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  am  faint  and  ill  from  wan'tof  food. 
I  confess." 

"  Come  along  with  me,  then.  But 
you  are  afraid  to  trust  me,  perhaps  ?" 

"  No— oh,  no." 

"Very  well,  then.  Follow  me  close^ 
and  I'll  lead  you  all  right.  Why,  it's 
some  mistake,  surely.  You  can't  be  a 
highwayman  j     It's  too  bad." 

"They  want  to  take  my  life,  though. 
It  is  Peter  Bayley  who  has  a  grudge 
against  me." 

"  The  rascal !  has  he  ?  Well,  never 
mind,  young  fellow.  You  come  along 
o'  me,  and  I  don't  think  they  will  find 
you  in  a  hurry." 

Fred  was  most  grateful  for  this  hearty 
succor.  He  cast  away  the  hay-fork,  and 
followed  the  laborer,  who  told  him,  as 
they  went,  that  he  worked  for  old  White- 
head, who  was  so  bad  a  master,  that  if  . 
he  could  get  into  any  other  farmer's  ser- 
vice just  then,  he  would  leave  him  a; 
once ;  but  as  employment  was  hard  to 
be  got  at  that  season,  and  as  he  had  a 
wife  and  child,  he  was  glad  even  to  take 
it  from  Whitehead. 

At  the  termination  of  the  plantation, 
there  was  a  little  woody  lane,  and  some 
distance  along  that  appeared  a  white- 
washed cottage,  which,  to  be  sure,  look- 
ed miserable  enough  ;  but  still,  to  the 
eye  of  Fearless  Fred,  it  was  most  wel- 
come, as  a  refuge  against  the  officer? 
who,  for  all  he  knew,  aimed  at  his  life  to 
satisfy  the  villainy  of  Bayley. 

"Here  we  are  at  home,"  said  the  labo- 
rer. "  It  ain't  much  of  a  place ;  but  it 
keeps  out  wind  and  weather,  for  all 
that." 

"  It  is  very  welcome  to  me." 

"  Well,  and  you  are  welcome  to  it,  if 
it  comes  to  that." 

There  was  a  little  plot  of  garden 
ground  in  front  of  the  cottage,  and  a 
Uttld   swinging   gate   just   to  shield  it 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


ni 


from  *he  pathway  of  ttie  lane.  The 
commoner  sort  of  vegetables  only  grew 
in  thf  garden,  with  here  and  there  a 
wild  rtower  or  two.  Fred  followed  the 
labore-r ;  and  then  when  they  got  close 
to  the  door,  a  respectable  enough  look- 
ing woman  came  out,  saying,  as  she  did 
10,  in  a  tone  of  surprise — 

"What,  back  already,  Robert?  Is 
chere  naught  for  you  to  do  at  the  farm  ?" 

"  Perhaps  there  is,  wife,  but  I  haven't 
been.  I  want  you  to  give  this  young 
cbap  the  best  you  have  for  a  breakfast. 
Poor  fellow,  he  wants  it.  Can't  Bessy 
^o  for  some  more  skim-milk  to  Robert- 
son's?" 

The  Bessy  alluded  to  was  a  fine, 
healthy-looking  little  girl  of  about  seven 
years  of  age,  and  Fred  could  see  her 
p(»eping  from  behind  her  mother  at 
him. 

"  To  be  sure,  Robert,"  said  the  good 
woman.  "  Coine  in,  sir.  Why,  what 
has  happened  ?  Is  it  some  accident  Ro- 
bert ?" 

"Shut  the  door — shut  the  door,  wife, 
and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  There, 
now — put  up  the  bar.  Now,  sir,  you  sit 
down,  and  don't  you  be  afraid  of  them 
rhaps.     They  won't  come  again." 

"Oh,  gracious,"  said  the  wife.  "Do 
V()u  mean  the  officers?" 

"  Tush  !"  cried  the  man.  "  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it.  Come  this  way,  and 
I'll  tell  you  while  Bessy  goes  for  the 
•kim-milk." 

The  man  soon  satisfied  his  wife  that 
fred  was  a  fit  object  for  sympathy, 
and  when  she  came  back  to  him,  she 
said — 

"And  did  you  really  crive  that  Bill  a 
jfood  progue  with  our  hny  fork?" 

"  I  believe  I  did.  He  howled  loud 
wiough." 

"Tlien  it  was  him  that  I  heard  all  the 
way  here,  and  I'm  quite  glad  of  it,  for 
he  is  always  ill-using  animals  ;  and  only 
the  other  day  he  killed  our  poor  cat." 

"Cruelty  to  animals,  madam,"  said 
Fred,  "is  one  of  those  most  unmistaka- 
ble symptoms  of  a  depraved  disposition, 
which  we  are  permitted  to  see,  ic  order 


that  we  may  never   mistake  the  charac* 
ters  of  certain  individunls." 

"  Dear  me,  Robert,"  said  the  woman, 
"he  speaks  just  like  a  book,  he  does." 

"  Yes,"  said  Robert,  in  a  low  tone. 
"  He  is  somebody,  no  doubt,  who  knows 
all  that's  in  the. old  dictionary  up  stairs 
by  heart.  I  have  tried  to  read  it  through 
often,  but  never  got  beyond  the  second 
page,  and  then  I  was  sure  to  fall  fast 
asleep ;  but  I  daresay  it  is  very  interest- 
ing if  one  could  but  go  on  with  it." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  Robert.  But  do  you 
think  he  would  take  a  little  of  the  pick- 
led pork?" 

"  Yes,"  cried  out  Fred,  "  with  great 
pleasure." 

They  did  not  think  that  he  had  over 
heard  what  they  bad  been  saying,  and 
the  woman  quite  started  to  hear  him  say 
what  he  did,  while  the  man  laughingly 
said — 

"  You  see,  wife,  that  young  ears  can 
hear  sharply." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Fred,  "  I  was  not 
listening  to  what  you  were  saying ;  but 
the  words,  pickled  pork,  struck  upon  my 
ears  whether  I  would  or  not." 

The  woman  now  placed  before  Fred  a 
very  substantial  breakfast,  and  the  labo- 
rer departed  to  his  work,  at  which  he 
would  be  already  sufficiently  late  to  in- 
cur, no  doubt,  the  great  anger  of  the 
farmer. 

"  But,  I  don't  mind  that  at  all,"  said 
the  man,  "  if  I  do  but  see  a  good  lump 
on  his  thick  head,  and  that,  I  have  no 
doubt,  I  shall,  for  the  hay-fork,  if  it  be 
used  with  a  will,  don't  hit  very  gently. 
So  good  morning,  young  sir,  and  be  as- 
sured that  you  mav  lemain  heic  in  per- 
fect safety  as  long  as  you  like  to  do  so." 

Fred  warmly  thanked  the  laborer  for 
his  kindness,  and  as  Bessy  brought  back 
the  skim-milk,  he  made  by  its  aid,  and 
that  of  the  pickled  pork  beside,  a  very 
good  breakfast. 

There  was  plenty  of  sweet  home-mad 
loaves,  too,  and    although    butter  was 
luxury  that  was  not  to   be  had  in  t 
cottage,  Fred  did  not  mirs  it. 

The  good  woman  seemed  to  be  quite 
delighted  that  her  visitor  made  so  good 


78 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


a  repast ;  and  when  it  was  over,  she 
brouijlife  him  a  large  wooden  bowl  of 
clear  8]Ming  water,  with  which  he  wash- 
ad  away  all  the  traces  of  blood  from  his 
face,  so  that  he  looked  quite  a  different 
Weing  to  what  he  had  been,  and  the  wo- 
man could  not  help  looking  at  hira  with 
an  eye.  of  pity,  as  she  said — 

"  And  so,  they  want  to  make  out  that 
you  are  such  a  thing  as  a  highwayman, 
do  they  ?" 

"  Indeed,  they  do,"  said  Fred. 

"  Why,  it  ain't  in  nature  that  you 
should  be." 

"And  why  not?"  said  Fred,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  possibly  be  wicked 
enough,  I'm  sure,  with  that  face ;  so,  if 
you  were  to  tell  me  that  you  were  a  high- 
wayman yourself,  I  don't  think  I  should 
believe  that  such  was  the  case,  now,  re- 
ally." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  ?" 

"Oh,  no — no.  Why,  Bessy,  child, 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Where 
have  you  been  ?" 

"  Bessy  had  just  rushed  from  the  gar- 
den into  the  cottage  with  quite  a  scared 
look.  For  a  few  moments  the  girl  could 
not  speak,  and  when  she  did,  she  could 
only  just  manage  to  say,  in  alarmed  ac- 
cents— 

"  The  wicked  men  are  coming  again, 
mother." 

"  Who  ?"  cried  Fred. 

The  woman  ran  to  the  door  and  took 
a  look  out,  and  then  turning  to  Fred, 
w*iile  her  face  was  very  pale,  she  said — 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  the  oflScers  of  po- 
lice ?" 

"  Yes." 

She  claspea  her  hands,  then,  as  she 
added — 

"They  are  coming.  They  are  now 
getting  over  the  gate  which  my  husband 
must  have  fastened  after  him.  Oh,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  Oh,  what  will  become  of  us 
all  f" 

Fred  rose  and  looked  about  him. — 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  the  least  chance 
of  hiding  himself  there,  and  be  said, 
with  as  much  calmness  as  he  could  as- 
■amo     ' 


"  Do  not  grieve  foi  me.  If  tlie.y  i,u<ft 
me,  it  is  no  fault  of  yours,  you  know  : 
for  you  can  truly  say  that  you  do  nol 
know  who  I  am,  nor  do  you." 

"  Oh,  no— no.     But " 

"  Well,  what  would  you  sav  ?" 

"They  will  kill  you." 

"  It  is  likely  enough."  said  Fred,  as  hi 
grasped  the  knife  with  which  the  pork 
had  been  cut.  "They  may  do  so;  but 
it  shall  be  at  the  peril  of  some  of  their 
own  lives,  for  I  am  not  one  to  sit  still, 
and  allow  myself  to  be  tamely  slaugh- 
tered." 

"  Oh  mother — mother  !"  cried  Bessy, 
"I  hear  the  men  coming." 

"  What  shall  I  do— oh,  what  shall  I 
do?"  said  the  woman,  as  she  wrung  her 
hands  in  grief  and  excitement. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Fred. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Bessy,  "  hide 
him." 

"  Where,  my  child — where  ?" 

"Ay,  that  is  the  question,"  said  Fred, 
looking  round  him  at  the  cottage.  "  I 
fear  me,  that  there  are  no  hiding-places 
in  such  a  place  as  this  !" 

"  Oh,  yes  there  is,"  said  Bessy.    "  Don't 
you  remember,  mother,  when   I  hid  for 
fear  from  you  and  father,  and   you   botli^ 
looked  all   over   the  place,  and  couldn't 
find  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes — yes." 

"  It  was  in  the  copper,  and  some  wet 
clothes  upon  me,  so  that  you  could  not 
see  me,  you  know." 

"  That  is  a  chance,"  said  Fred.  "  Where 
is  the  copper  ?" 

"  Here — this  way,"  cried  the   woman. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  too  late.  They  are  even 
now  at  the  door." 

"  The  bar,"  said  Bessy,  as  sihe  adroitjy 
put  it  in  its  place  over  the  door.  "ITiey 
can't  get  in  now." 

A  heavy  blow  was  struck  at  the  door, 
and  the  woman  sunk  half  fainting  into 
a  chair.  It  was  quite  evident  that  she 
had  not  presence  of  mind  enough  to  help 
Fred,  or  even  to  show  him  where  the 
onlv  place  of  refuge  was;  but  Bessy 
placed  her  finger  upon  her  lips,  and  beck- 
oned him  to  follow  her  from  the  front 
room  of  the  cottage. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


79 


The  otficers  dealt  another  blow  upon 
the  d(;or,  as  Fred  followed  his  young 
guide,  and  she  led  him  into  a  little  kind 
of  scullery,  or  wash-house,  in  one  corner 
of  which  v/fis  the  copper. 

"  Get  in,"  she  said. 

Fred  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  He 
felt  that  it  was  his  only  chance,  and 
Bprung  in,  and  doubled  himself  up  into 
as  small  a  compass  as  he  could,  and  Bos- 
sy threw  a  great  quantity  of  wet  clothes 
upon  him,  and  shut  the  lid. 

The  officers  were  banging  away  at  the 
door  of  the  cottage  now  at  a  great  rate, 
and  Bessy  called  out  to  her  mother — 

"  Open  the  door — open  the  door." 

The  mother  did  not  move,  so  Bessy 
ran  into  the  front  room,  and  opened  it  her- 
self, and  a  couple  of  officers  made  a  dash 
into  the  cottage, 

"  How  now  ?"  said  one.  "  What's 
the  meaning  of  all  this,  eh  ?" 

''  Oh,  yes,  do  tell  us,"  said  Bessy. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"That  mother  and  me  would  like  to 
know  what's  the  meaning  of  all  this,  sir, 
that's  all," 

"  Oh,  would  you  ?  Now,  ma'm,  what's 
the  matter  with  you  ?" 

The  woman  was  sitting  upon  the 
chair,  into  which  she  had  fallen,  looking 
as  pale  as  death,  and  Bessy  immediately 
said — 

"  The  rat  has  gone  now,  mother.  You 
needn't  be  afraid  of  it  any  more," 

"  The  rat  ?"  cried  one  of  the  officers, 
«  What  rat  ?" 

"  A  large  brown  one,  sir,"  replied  Bes- 
sy. "They  do,  at  times,  come  into  the 
cottage,  and  mother  is  so  frightened  at 
them,  she  don't  know  whether  to  faint 
right  away  or  not,  I  assure  you,  sir." 

"  Oh,  indeed," 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Don't  keep  on  chattering  to  us,  you 
little  devil.  Come,  ma'am,  where's  Fear- 
less Fred  ?" 

The  woman  looked  aghast. 

**  Fred  who  ?"  she  said. 

*  Fred,  the  highwayman.  One  of  our 
•ooiits  says  he  saw  somebody  very  like 
him  come  to  this  cottage  with  a  man  a 
Uttie  time  ago." 


"  Oh,  gracious !" 

"  Oh,  it  is — Oh,  gracious  ?  Come, 
where  is  he  ?" 

"  Why,  mother,"  said  Bessy,  "  this 
uglv  man  thinks  father  and  brother 
Dick  are  bad  people,  surely,  don't  he  t 
Oh,  you  horrtti  man,  you  are  worse  than 
any  rat,  I  do  declare." 

"  Hold  your  row  !  Come,  ma'am,  who 
was  it  that  came  here  with  a  man  ?" 

The  laborer's  wife  by  this  time  was 
recovering  a  little  of  her  presence  of 
mind,  and  she  underetood  that  Bessy 
wanted  her  to  make  the  officers  believe 
that  she  had  a  son  who  had  come  with 
her  husband  to  the  cottage,  and  beec 
mistaken  for  the  person  they  were  in 
search  of.  It  was  quite  a  wonder,  con- 
sidering the  fright  she  was  in,  that  she 
was  able  to  think  so  clearly  at  all  as  to 
be  able  to  second  Bessy's  plan. 

"  Oh,  dear,  gentlemen,"  she  said, 
"  what  has  my  Dick  done  ?" 

"  Confound  you  and  your  Dick,  toa 
It  is  Fearless  Fred  we  want,"  cried  the 
officer.     ''  Come,  where  is  he  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  mean.  My 
husband  and  my  son  have  been  here, 
and  they  have  gone  away  again  to 
their  work  ;  but  that  is  all  I  know. 

The  officers  looked  at  each  other  in 
doubt,  and  the  -iie  whispered  to  the  oth- 
er— 

"  Perhaps  that  stupid  Brown  has  made 
a  mistake,  after  all.  What  do  you  think  ?" 

"  It  looks  hke  it." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  let  us  search  the 
cottage.  If  he  is  here,  we  shall  soon 
nab  him,  for  there  can't  be  any  hiding- 
place  in  such  a  place  as  this,  I  take  it." 

"Not  one,"  said  the  other.  "It 
would  be  ridiculous  to  attempt  to  hide 
here,  I  take  it,  unless  he  is  up  the 
chimney.     That  I  will  soon  find  out." 

With  this  the  officer  took  a  pistol 
from  his  pocket,  and  approaching  the 
chimney,  he  at  once  fired  it  up  it,  and 
brought  down  a  volley  of  soot,  that 
half  blinded  him. 

"  Curse  the  soot !" 

"  Well,  laughed  the  other,  "  you  are 
Batisfied  he  is  not  there  ?" 

"Satisfied!     Yes,  I  am  half  blinded 


80 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


besides  beinjy  satisfied.     Bother  take  it,  1 
who   would    have  supposed   a  sack   of 
soot  was  lodged  there,  and  only  waiting 
a  touch  to  come  all  down  at  once  ?" 

The  officer  'v^o  had  escaped  the  ava- 
lanche of  soot  appeared  to  be  highly  de- 
lighted at  his  companion's  misadventure, 
and  could  not  contain  his  laughter  at  all, 
which  put  the  other  in  a  ten  times  worse 
humor  than  before,  so  that,  drawing  his 
cutlass,  he  swore  that  if  he  could  only 
meet  with  Fred,  he  would  at  once  run 
him  through  the  body,  and  be  saved  all 
further  trouble  upon  his  account. 

"  Don't  be  rash,"  said  the  other. 

"Oh,  stuff!  It's  dead  or  alive,  he  is 
wanted  by  Peter,  and  nobody  care  which. 
We  are  authorized  to  kill  him." 

"  We  may  kill  him  in  self-defence,  if 
you  please  ;  but  not  in  cold-blood,  if  he 
gives  himself  up." 

"  Who  is  to  know  it  ?  Let  me  ask 
you  that.  I  say,  who  is  to  know  it,  stu- 
pid r 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  am  to  know  it, 
and,  at  a  word,  I  won't  have  it  done,  so 
there's  au  end  of  it,  and  don't  attempt 
it,  now.  Are  you  to  go  killing  and  slay 
ing  just  because  you  happen  to  be  in  a 
passion  ?  Oh,  you  needn't  frown  at  me  ; 
I  don't  care  for  your  black  looks  a  fig." 

The  other  growled  out  some  oaths, 
and  then  he  said — 

"  Tliis  is  children's  play.  We  don't 
come  here  to  quarrel,  but  to  find  Fear- 
less Fred,  so  let's  drop  the  altercation, 
and  come  and  look  for  him  at  once." 

"  With  all  my  heart ;  but  no  killing 
just  because  some  soot  has  come  down 
the  chimnev  into  your  eye." 

"  Oh  !     i3other  you." 

The  mode  of  exammation  of  the  cot- 
tage was  such,  tliat  if  Fred  had  been 
hidden  anywhere  very  accessible,  he 
«rould,  in  all  likelihood,  have  been  very 
severely  wounded,  if  not  killed,  for  the 
officer  who  had  drawn  his  cutlass  thrust 
it  rather  carelessly  into  every  hole  and 
corner  where  it  was  possible  any  one 
could  be  stowed. 

When  they  reached  the  wash-house, 
a  ghince  round  it  showed  them  there 
was   no   place  oi    concealment  but  the 


copper,  and  that  did  not  look  as  though 
it  were  big  enough  to  hold  even  tba 
slight  figure  of  Fearless  Fred. 

"  Confound  him  !"  muttered  the  offi- 
cer who  was  making  so  free  with  his  cut- 
lass ;  "  he  is  not  here,  after  all,  and  it 
must  have  been  a  mistake." 

"I  thought  80  from  the  first,"  saii 
the  other.     "It  didn't  look  likely." 

"  Well,  it's  only  a  little  tiouble." 

"Yes,  and  a  little  soot." 

The  one  with  the  cutlass  lifted  the  lid 
of  the  copper,  and  looked  in. 

"  Oh,  clothes  here,"  he  said,  as  he 
gave  a  thrust  downwards,  with  the  cut- 
lass ;  but  in  the  position  he  had  to  use 
the  weapon,  he  had  but  little  power  with 
it,  and  the  point  was  entangled  amongst 
the  wet  clothes.  Throwing  on  the  lid, 
then,  with  an  emphasis  that  was  enough 
to  smash  it,  he  said — 

"  Come  on  ;  it's  no  go." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  sai^d  the  other.  "  I 
told  you  so." 

"  I  say  you  didn't !" 

"Ha!  ha!" 

*'  I  say  it's  a  lie — a — Well,  well,  I'm 
a  fool,  and  that's  the  end  of  it.  i 
didn't  mean  what  I  said." 

"  Very  good.  Now  look  you  :  this  is 
the  last  ttime  you  and  I  go  out  together 
on  any  enterprise.  You  have  no  temper 
for  your  business,  and  you  have  only 
made  one  remark  while  in  this  cottage 
that  has  been  at  all  correct." 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ?" 

"  Didn't  you  say  you  were  a  fool  just 
now  ?" 

The  passionate  officer  bit  his  lip,  but 
made  no  reply  to  this,  and  then  they 
both  passed  out  into  the  front  room  of 
the  cottage,  when  he  who  had  shown  a 
calm  temper,  stepped  up  to  the  laborer's 
wife,  and  taking  a  pocket-book  from  his 
pocket,  he  said,  in  a  cool,  determined 
manner — 

"  Now,  my  good  woman,  did  you  ev- 
er possess  fifty  pounds  in  your  life  ?" 

"  Fifty  pounds  ?" 

"  Yes,  it's  a  good  round  sum  for  th« 
like  of  you,  I  take  it ;  but  did  you  ever 
possess  as  much }" 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


8} 


*  Oh,  no — no.  I  never  saw  such  a 
iura  of  money  as  all  that." 

"  Very  well.  You  may  not  only  see 
BUch  a  sum,  but  you  may  own  it,  too, 
if  you  will  tell  us  where  to  lay  our  hands 
upon  Fearless  Fred.  Here  is  a  Bank  of 
England  note  for  the  money  at  once." 

**  The  Bank  of  Eiiirland  ?  Fifty  pounds? 
Why,  it's — it's — (.[uite  a  little  fortune — 
I  mean,  a  great  fortune." 

"  Well,  it  is  something  in  that  way. 
Can  you  give  us  the  information  where 
we  can  nab  him,  and  take  the  note  ?" 

The  woman  looked  at  Bessy,  and  gave 
a  shudder,  as  she  said — 
"  I  don't  know." 
"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?'* 
"Oh,  yes,  of  course.     I  wish  I  did.   I 
don't  know.     It's  a  great  deal  of  money, 
but  as  1  don't  know,  I  can't  think  of  it." 
"No  go,''  said  the  officer  to   his  com- 
panion.    "  He  is  not   here.     It  is  all  a 
mistake.     Come  on." 

They  both  walked  from  the  cottage 
without  another  word,  and  the  woman 
burst  into  tears,  as  she  said — 

"  01),  Bessy,  only  think — fifty 
pounds !" 

"  Yes,  mother.  But  are  you  not  as 
happy  as  a  queen  that  vou  refused  it  ?" 

"  Yes— ves.  Thank  God— thank  God 
for  that  1" ' 

Bessy  mingled  her  warm  and  affec- 
tionate tears  with  those  of  her  mother 
for  some  few  minutes  after  the  officers 
had  left ;  and  then  turning  to  her  child, 
with  a  smile,  the  mother  said — 

''  Oh,  Bessy  !     I  feel  as  if  I,  too,  had 

had  an  escape  from  death." 

"  From  death,  mother  ?" 

"  Ay,    my    child,   from    worse    than 

death,  for  I  did  feel  as  if  at  one  moment 

— it  was  only  for   a  moment,  though 

that  I  would  take  the  fifty   pounds,  and 

give  him  up." 

"Oh,  mother!" 

"  Nay,  it  was  only   for  a   moment. — 

The  instant  after  I   looked   at  you,  and 

the  sight  of  your  face   decided   me  the 

other  way,  and  now  I  am  so  very  hap- 

"  You  are  very  good,  mother,  and  you 
know  that  you  could  not  give  up  the 


poor  young  man  to  death  for  a  thousand 
pounds,  no,  nor  for  ten  times  thrvt  again  ; 
for  what  could  have  made  ns  happy  af 
ter  such  a  thing  as  that?  Would  i( 
not  have  been  dreadful  to  get  money  in 
such  a  way  as  that  ?" 

"Too  dreadful!  Every  guinea  would 
have  seemed  to  be  a  drop  of  his  blood.'" 

Bessy  shuddered. 

"  I  will  go  and  tell  him  now,  mother, 
that  the  wicked  men  are  gone." 

"We  will  both  go,  my  dear." 

They  both  made  their  way  into  the 
wash-house,  and  Bessy  eagerly  removed 
the  clothes  from  the  copper,  as  she  cried 
out — 

"  They  are  gone  again,  and  you  are 
quite  safe.  You  can  coma  out  now,  if 
you  please." 

"  Help  me,"  said  Fred,  and  he  spoke 
very  faintiy. 

they  were  dreadfully  alarmed  to  hear 
the  tone  of  voic-e  in  which  he  addres^sed 
them,  but  they  helped  him  out  of  th« 
copper,  and  then  they  saw  blooci  stream- 
in  fr  down  his  neck,  and  Bessy  uttered  i. 
scream  of  terror, 

"  Water,"  said  Fred,  "  a  little  water. 
I  am  better  now." 

"  But  how  is  this  ?"  said  the  woman, 
trembling  as  she  spoke  ;  "  how  did  you 
get  this  hurt?" 

"  One  of  them  thrust  a  cutlass  into  the 
copper,  and  the  point  of  it  gave  me  this 
gash  in  the  neck.  If  I  had  staid  much 
longer  there  I  think  I  should  have  bled 
to  death.  I  am  not  very  strong  now,  as 
I  have  another  wound  to  contend  with. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  will  become  ol 
me." 

"  My  poor  lad,  they  will  kill  you  !" 

"They  are  doing  so,  by  degrees.— 
Thank  you,  Bessy,  for  saving  me  fron\ 
them.  I  do  think  that  they  want  to 
kill  me." 

"  Only  one  of  them,"  said  Bessy,  as 
she  held  the  water  for  Fred  to  bathe  hii 
wound  with,  and  cried  at  the  same  time, 
so  that  the  tears  coursed  each  other 
down  her  cheeks.  "  It  was  only  one  of 
them  that  wanted  to  kill  you  ;  the  o'.hor 
one  said  tha*  you  sliuuld  not  be  killed  " 


62 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


**  It  don't  matter ,  one  would  have 
sufficed." 

"  But  you  are  not  dying  now  ?" 

"  Oil,  no — no ;  I  shall  be  better  now  ; 
and  if  they  will  only  leave  me  alone 
now  till  nightfall,  all  will  be  yet  well,  I 
hope,  with  rae,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  go 
upon  an  enterprise  which  I  hope  to  be 
successful  in,  before  anything  worse  hap- 
pens to  me." 

"  Alas — alas  !" 

"  Nay,  do  not  cry  foT  me,  Bessy. — 
Who  knows  but  I  may  yet  escape  all 
ray  enemies  altogether !  I  am  in  rather 
a  woeful  plight  just  now,  and  my  affairs 
don't  look  very  promising." 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  the  woman,  "  are 
you  the  person  that  the  officers  really 
wanted  ?     You  may  tell  us  now." 

"  I  know  I  may  :  I  am  Fearless  Fred." 

A  feeling  of  faintness  came  over  Fred 
at  this  moment ;  the  loss  of  blood  and 
the  excitement  he  had  gone  through 
were  too  much  for  him,  and  he  fell  off 
the  chair  upon  which  he  had  been  sit- 
ting to  the  floor  in  a  fainting  fit. 

"  Oh,  he  is  dead — he  is  dead !" 
screamed  Bessy. 

The  mother  was  at  first  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  being  a  very  timid  woman, 
she  was  ready  to  faint  herself  at  the 
idea,  and  was  quite  incapable  of  assist- 
ing Fred.  It  was  at  this  moment,  when 
she  was  holding  by  the  little  dresser  in 
the  wash-house  for  support,  and  Bessy 
was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  Fred  on 
the  floor,  that  they  heard  a  footstep. 

"  Oh,  G  od,  they  are  coming  again  !" 
cried  the  woman. 

Bessy  S(;reamed  and  clapped  her  hands 
over  her  face,  for  if  Fred  were  not  dead 
quite,  she  fully  expected  to  see  him  kill- 
ed before  her  eyes  in  the  next  minute. 

The  sound  of  the  approaching  footstep 
came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  then  the 
door  of  the  wash-house  was  pushed  open, 
and  a  voice  said — 

"  Where  are  you  all  ?" 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  laborer  him- 
self, and  with  a  cry  of  joy  his  wife  sprung 
forward  to  meet  him. 

"  Oh,  Robert-— Robert,  they  have  kill- 
ed him  r 


"  Good  God,  no  !" 

"  Yes — oh,  yes  ;  look  at  him." 

Bessy  now  sobbed  convulsively,  and 
the  poor  man  was  thoroughly  bewilder- 
ed for  a  few  moments  among  them. 

"  Gracious  Heaven  !"  he  said,  "I  did 
not  expect  this.  Some  one  told  me  that 
two  men  had  been  here,  and  I  came 
home  then  as  fast  as  I  could.  But  you  do 
not  mean  to  tell  me  that  they  have  mur- 
dered this  youth  ?" 

"  Yes— oh,  yes  !" 

"  And  he  is  Fearless  Fred,"  said  Bessy. 

"  Poor  fellow,  I  suspected  it,"  said  the 
man.  "I  thought  as  much  from  the 
first.  But  it  is  a  sad  end  for  him  to 
come  to  surely.  Are  you  sure  he  is 
dead  ?" 

"  Look  at  him." 

"  Well — well,  poor  fellow,  he  does 
look  dead  enough,  to  be  sure.  Did  they 
shoot  hirs  ?" 

"No— no." 

The  laborer  bent  over  Fred,  and  then 
he  said  suddenly,  as  he  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  heart — 

"Why,  he  is  not  dead." 

"Not  dead  ?"'  shrieked  both  Bessy  and 
her  mother. 

"Now  do  be  a  little  quiet  boih  of  you, 
and  bring  me  some  cold  water  and  some 
vinegar,  if  you  have  any.  I  tei(  you  he 
is  no  more  dead  than  we  are  ;  he  has 
fainted,  that  is 'all,  and  wili,  no  doubt, 
soon  come  to  himself  again  poor  fellow. 
Why,  you  must  be  both  out  of  your 
senses. 

"We  have  been  so  frightened." 

*'0h,  stuflf!     The  water  Bessy." 

"Yes,  father,  and  here  is  the  vinegar." 

Bessy  watched  the  operation  of  restor- 
ing Fred  to  consciousness  with  an  absorb- 
ing interest,  and  when  she  saw  him.  after 
about  five  minutes,  fairly  open  his  eyes, 
she  clapped  her  hands  with  joy,  and  call- 
ed out — 

"Oh,  there  are  his  eyes  aijaia,  that  1 
thought  we  should  never  see  more.— - 
Look  at  his  eyes,  mother  ?" 

"Hush,  my  dear — hush!"  said  the  fa- 
ther. "He  must  be  kept  quiet ;  rest  will 
I  do  him  more  good  than  anything  alsej 
and  we  ought  to  get  a  doctor  to  him." 


FEiVRLESS  FRED. 


8? 


"To  be  aure  we  ought,  and  we  will  too." 

Fr&d  was  sufficiently  restored  to  hear 
these  words,  and  he  shook  his  head  in 
i!i<approl)Htion  of  them,  and  then  he 
in-iii:iged  to  shv  very  faintly,  but  still 
?'iffi(;iently  distinctly  for  them  to  hear 
li'in  and  fully  to  understand  him — 

"  No — no  ;  only  rest,  nothing  but  rest. 
Xo  lector." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  man,  "  it  shall 
l)e  90.  You  may  depend,  wife,  that  he 
knows  best.  I  will  carry  him  into  the 
front  room,  and  place  him  upon  our  bed, 
poor  fellow,  and  then,  perhaps,  he  will 
\To  to  sleep." 

"  Sleep  !"  said  Fred.  "  Oh,  yes,  it  is 
«leep  will  save  me  now.  I  feel  very 
weak  and  heavy." 

It  wa.s,  no  doubt,  the  loss  of  blood  that 
mAde  l)iu\  feel  so  inclined  for  sleep  ;  but 
so  it  was,  he  vioald  hardly  keep  his  eyes 
open,  so  they  carried  him  into  the  front 
room,  and  litid  hmi  on  their  humble  bed  , 
and  not  expectiii^r  that  it  was  at  all  likely 
the  officers  would  make  him  another  vis- 
it to  the  cottage,  they  permitted  him  to 
rest  where  he  was  in  peace.  In  a  few 
inoments  a  deep  slumber  came  over  poor 
Fred. 

The  poor  man  and  his  wife  were  now 
in  the  greatest  possible  perplexity  to 
know  what  to  do.  They  found  that 
rred  was  very  much  injured,  and  that 
when  he  should  awake  he  would  be  much 
worse  than  he  was  then,  and  they  looked 
at  each  other,  thoroughly  bewildered  to 
know  what  to  do. 

What  shall  we  do?"  said  the  wife. 

•'  I  know  not,"  said  the  husband. 

"Why,  take  care  of  him,  to  be  sure," 
said  Bessy.  ''  He  can't  eat  a  great  deal, 
and  he  can  have  my  dinner,  you  know, 
every  day,  and  Y\\  do  very  well  upon  my 
breakfast  and  supper  ;  besides,  T  can  get 
lots  of  fruit  from  Mr.  Smith's  orchard, 
for  the  gardner  will  g've  me  whatever  I 
ask  for.  If  it  were  the  hUckberry  time  of 
the  year,  toe,  I  shouldvyant  for  nothing." 
"  You  know  not  what  you  speak 
about,"  .said  the  husband.  "  But  we 
must  trust  to  Providence  in  the  matter, 
and  take  t'lings  as  the^'  fall  out.  Give 
him  u|  to  hia  en<?mie3,  ^  will  irot.'* 


"  That's  my  own  father,"  said  Bessy. 

The  wife  did  nothing  but  cry,  for  shu 
foresaw,  or  she  fancied  she  dii.  the  break 
ing  up  of  her  humble  home,  ai!  through 
this  most  unfortunate  adventure.  And 
yet  she  knew  not  how  to  avoid  it,  so  she 
cried  still  more,  the  more  she  thought 
over  it,  and  was  quite  incapable  of  giv- 
ing any  advice,  or  of  adopting  any  ra- 
tional course  upon  the  occasion. 

The  laborer  did  not  leave  the  cottagcj 
seeing  how  completely  helpless  his  wife 
was,  and  so  the  day  wore  on,  and  no  liv- 
ing soul  came  to  that  humble  abode  to 
disturb  the  slumbers  of  poor  Fred. 

Probably  sleep  did  more  for  Fred  in 
regard  to  his  wounds  that  the  most  skill- 
ful surgeon  could  have  accomplished. — 
Nature  has  modes  of  restoration  of  her 
own  of  which,  after  all,  with  all  our 
boasted  science,  we  know  but  little ;  but 
certain  it  is,  that  the  sleep,  or  the  cold- 
water  bandages,  or  both  together,  had 
the  effect  of  very  much  restoring  Fear- 
less Fred  to  a  better  state  than  one  would 
have  supposed  to  be  possible. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes,  the  cottage 
was  verv  dark  indeed,  and  for  a  few  min- 
utes he  could  not  take  upon  himself  to 
say  exactly  where  he  was. 

Bessy  and  her  mother  were  by  the 
fire-side  conversing  together  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice,  and  Fred  as  he  lay  there 
still,  by  them  supposed  to  be  asleep, 
heard  plainly  enough  what  they  said  to 
each  other. 

The  fire-light  now  and  then  lent  a 
flickering  and  uncertian  glow  to  the  lit- 
tle room  when  a  flame  started  up  from 
the  consuming  embers  ;  but  that  was  not 
often. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  the  good  woman, 
"  vou  know  that  I  would  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  this  poor  youth  who  has 
been  cast  upon  our  kindness,  .so  don't 
suppose  that  by  what  I  have  said  I  repine 
at  the  consequences,  or  think  of  doing 
j  him  any  harm,  Bessy.  I  would  not  for 
I  worlds." 

"  I  know  that,  mother,"  said  Bessy, 
and  she  evidently  spoke  through  her 
tears. 


84 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


"  Well,  my  dear,  don't  cry." 

"No,  I  won't,  if  I  can  help  it,  mother. 
But  you  really  don't  think  that  anybody 
•f  would  be  so  wicked  as  to  turn  us  out  of 
our  humble  little  home  just  because  we 
did  an  act  of  kindness  to  this  poor  Fear- 
less Fred." 

"  Hush  !  my  dear,  hush  1  Let  me  beg 
of  j'^ou  not  to  pronounce  his  name. 
There's  danger  in  the  very  sound  of  it. 
I  will  not  say  that  I  regret  his  coming 
here,  for  I  do  think  that  if  he  had  not 
he  would  have  by  this  time  been  with  the 
dead  ;  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  the  dan- 
ger we  run  by  harboring  him." 

"What  can  we  do,  mother  ?" 

"Nothing,  my  dear — nothing.  I 
would  not  let  him  know  for  the  world 
that  I  thought  as  I  did.  I  wonder  what 
it  is  that  detains  vour  father  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  late." 

"  Suppose  we  go  out  into  the  lane, 
then,  and  watch  for  him,  my  dear  ?  I 
am  so  full  of  apprehensions,  that  I  real- 
Iv  cannot  stay  in  the  house." 

"  Come,  then,  mother.  We  will  go  at 
once.  I  suppose  he  will  not  awaken  yet  ?" 

Bessy  approached  the  bed,  but  Fear- 
less Fred  closed  his  eyes  and  imitated  a 
deep  and  tranquil  sleep,  so  she  stepped 
lightly  away  from  him,  and  with  her 
mother  left  the  cottage. 

The  moment  they  were  both  gone 
Fred  sat  up  in  the  bed,  and  was  well 
pleased  to  find  that  his  head  was  better 
than  it  had  been,  and  that  his  strength 
generally  was  very  much  recovered  by  the 
rest  he  had  had. 

"I  will  not  stay  here,"  he  said,  "to 
bring  distress  and  danger  upon  these 
poor  peoplo.  Let  what  may  be  my 
fate,  I  will  not  involve  them  in  it.  I 
will  leave  them  at  once,  and  seek  my 
fate  far  away  from  this  cottage  home. 
They  shall  not  have  to  say  that  it  was 
through  me  they  were  made  house- 
less wanderers  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

Fred  rather  tottered  when  he  got 
tairly  to  his  feet,  for  a  slight  sensation 
of  giddiness  came  over  him ;  but  he 
knew  that  that  would  pass  away  soon, 
(BO  h«  f'id  not  heed  it  in  the  least,  but 


looked  about  loi  nis  boots,  whic^  had 
been  taken  oflF. 

Fred  was  soon  ready  to  start  here,  then, 
after  one  more  glance  round  the  cottage 
he  went  to  the  wash-house,  and  got  ou 
at  its  little  window,  and  so  into  the  back 
garden,  and  then  by  climbing  a  stile  he 
was  in  the  open  Celds  again  in  a  minute 
or  two. 

He  turned  and  cast  one  last  look  at 
the  cottage,  and  then,  as  he  said, 
"  Farewell,"  he  struck  across  the  meadow 
he  was  in  at  as  much  speed  as  he  could 
command. 

But  Fred  was  not  now  proceeding  at 
random  through  the  country.  He  had 
made  a  determination  which,  if  he  could 
only  carry  out,  might,  at  all  events,  have 
the  effect  of  very  nnieh  altering  the  sit- 
uation of  Jane,  whatever  might  be  hi.s 
own  prospects  in  consequence. 

"  I  will  proceed  at  once,"  he  said,  "  to 
the  place  which  Jane  described  tome  as 
that  wherein  she  had  hidden  the  cedar- 
box,  and  I  will  not  rest  until  I  have  fully 
ascertained  its  contents;  and  I'f  they 
should  suffice  to  clear  up  the  mystery  of 
her  birth,  I  will  then,  heedless  of  mj 
own  position,  proceed  to  London,  anj 
place  the  papers  in  the  h>mds  of  som% 
one  who  will,  from  his  official  position, 
be  bound  to  see  justice  done  to  her." 


CHAPTER  XL 

FRED     FINDS   THE     CEDAR-BOX,    AND     UN- 
RAVELS      A       GREAT       MYSTERY. 

Fred,  notwithstanding  all  that  had 
occurred  to  him  since  he  had  left  Mrs, 
Block's  house,  was  still  not  very  tar 
from  it;  so  that  he  had  a  very  tolerable 
comprehension  of  the  road  that  he  ought 
to  take. 

At  that  hour  of  the  evening,  though, 
when  each  moment  the  outlines  of  ob- 
jects were  becoming  more  and  more 
confused,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  say 
exactly  which  was  his  nearest  course  to 
take ;  so,  he  went  on  with  the  hop« 
that  he  would  get  to  a  high  road,  anii 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


U 


possibly,  then,  be  able  to  ask  his  way  to 
the  spot,  which  was  in  the  immediate 
neifjhborhood  of  Finuhley. 

With  this  resolution,  he  walked  in  as 
straight  a  line  as  he  could,  crossing  the 
hedges  as  he  went,  when  suddenly,  just 
as  he  found  his  way  through  one,  a 
rough  voice  called  out — 

"  Who  goes  there  ?" 

Fred  drew  back,  and  did  not  answer, 
to  the  voice  repeated  the  question  in 
•till  more  peremptory  accents,  and  Fred 
thought  it  best  to  answer. 

'*  A    friend,"   he   said.       "  Who    are 

"  Come  forward,  then,  if  you  are  a 
friend,  and  don't  be  skulking  behind  a 
hedge.  If  you  want  to  know  who  I  am, 
[  can  tell  you  that  I  am  a  Bow-street 
officer." 

"  Oh,  indeed  I" 

"  Well,  come  on.  I  am  on  duty  here, 
md  mu>st  examine  all  suspicious  persons, 
you  know." 

"  What !  Do  you  mean  to  call  me  a 
suspicious  character  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do." 

"  Then  I  shall  certainly  not  come  for- 
ward after  such  an  insult  as  that.  A 
suspicious  jierson,  indeed  !  I  am  sur- 
prised at  vour  confounded  impertinence, 
Mr.  Officer." 

"  Stand,  or  I  fire  !" 

"  Fire  away  !" 

"Ah  !  is  that  your  game  ?  You  are, 
perhaps,  the  very  person  we  want,  for  he 
is  Dot  over  particular  about  a  pistol-shot 
or  two,  so  1  shall  have  you." 

**  When  you  catch  me,"  said  Fred 
AS  he  ran  along  the  hedge  at  a  swift 
pace.  He  heard  the  officer  breaking 
through  the  hedge  ;  but  he  was  evident- 
ly in  doubt  as  to  the  course  that  Fred 
had  taken,  for  at  first  he  ran  some  dis- 
tance across  the  field,  and  then  he  called 
•ut  in  a  much  louder  voice — 

"  Hilloa,  my  young  fellow  ?  If  it's  all 
right,  only  say  so,  and  I  .shan't  waste  my 
time  in  running  after  you." 

This  was  only  a  ruse  by  which  he 
night  hear  the  sound  of  Fred's  voice, 
and  so  know  in  which  direction  to 
p«n««    him ;     aod    Fred,    considering 


it    to    be   such,    very    wisely    hold    his 
tongue. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  I"  cried  th« 
officer. 

Slill  Fred  was  silent,  nor  would  he 
move  now  till  the  oflicer  did  so,  and 
drowned  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  with 
his  own. 

♦^ni  Imre  you,  if  I  die  for  it!" 
muttered  the  officer,  and  he  made  a 
dash  towards  the  hedge,  now,  and  Fred 
thought  that  it  was  high  time  to  get  out 
of  the  way. 

Close  to  the  bank  upon  which  the 
hedge  grew,  he  found  a  small  gap,  which 
was  just  about  /arge  enough  for  hira 
to  force  himself  gently  through,  and  by 
its  aid  he  reached  the  by-road  upon 
which  the  officer  had  been  stationed. 
Not  knowing,  then,  very  well  whether 
it  would  be  better  for  him  to  turn  to 
the  right  or  to  the  left,  in  order  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  destination,  and  yet  feeling 
that  to  delay  was  the  most  dangerous 
thing  he  could  possibly  do,  Fred  took 
the  right-hand  route,  and  ran  on  quick- 
ly till  he  saw  something  in  his  way, 
which  in  the  darkness  he  could  not  at 
first  make  out  at  all. 

Pausing  to  take  a  good  look  at  the 
object,  Fred  then  saw  that  it  was  a  horse 
tied  by  the  bridle  to  a  branch  of  a  tree 
that  happened  to  bend  low  enough  for 
that  purpose,  so  that  it  could  be  ver; 
well  reached  by  any  one  upon  the  horse'* 
back. 

"That  this  was  the  officer's  hor«e, 
Fred  did  not  entertain  a  doubt  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  and  when  he  felt  the  holsters  by 
the  side  of  the  saddle,  and  the  stocks  ol 
the  pistols  in  them,  he  was  quite  con- 
firmed in  the  idea. 

"This  is  a  lucky  chance,  indeed," said 
Fred,  as  he  sprang  upon  the  back  of  the 
horse. 

At  that  moment  he  heard  footstep* 
just  over  the  hedge  in  the  meadow,  and 
lie  knew  that  the  officer  was  close  at  hand, 
then,  and  that  the  sound  of  the  horse'i 
feet  would  at  once  let  him  know  wha4 
had  happened. 

"  Woa  r   cried  the  officer,  trymg  tc 


80 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


look  through  the  hedge  at  his  horse    to 
ascertain  that  it  was  all  safe. 

Fred  stooped  down  upon  the  saddle, 
80  that  his  head  should  not  be  seen,  and 
probably  all  would  have  been  well,  but 
that  the  clatter  of  horse's  feet  in  the  lane, 
from  some  approaching  horseman  sud- 
denly became  manifest. 

That  the  person  who  was  approaching 
was  another  oflScer,  was  but  too  probable, 
and  Fred  did  not  feci  inclined  to  wait 
the  result  of  the  encounter  upon  that 
spot.  Slipping  the  bridle  of  the  steed  he 
had  appropriated  oflf  the  bough  of  the 
tree,  he  set  oflF  at  a  gallop,  but  without 
saying  a  word,  so  that  the  officers  might, 
if  they  were  so  inclined,  think  that  the 
creature  had  broken  loose,  and  merely 
run  away  from  impatience  of  having  been 
retained  so  long. 

"  Hilloa  !  Stop  !''  cried  the  advancing 
horseman.  "  Stop,  I  say,  Jones.  Where 
the  devil  are  you  going  ?" 

"I'm  here,"  said  Jones,  from  the 
other' side  of  the  hedge.  "It's  my 
horse  that  has  run  away,  I'm  afraid.  Mr. 
Ue." 

"  Well,  if  he  has,  then,  he  has  run  a- 
way  with  some  one  on  his  back,  for  I 
saw  that  much,  at  all  events." 

"  The  deuce  you  did  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  did,  whether  it  is  the  deuce 
or  not." 

"  It's  Fearless  Fred,  then,  as  I'm  a  sin 
Her  !" 

"  Fearless  Fred,  do  you  say  ?" 

"  Oh,  lor,  yes.  I  thought  it  was  that 
fellow.  I  got  over  here  to  hunt  him  out, 
and  he  has  played  the  double  upon  me, 
and  gone  and  taken  possession  of  my 
horse.  Here's  a  pretty  situation.  Oh,  I 
could  knock  my  own  head  off." 

"  Then  I  shall  leave  you  to  do  it  at 
your  leisure,"  said  the  other,  as  putting 
spurs  to  his  horse  he  set  off  at  full  gallop 
after  Fred  along  the  lane. 

Now  this  officer  was  rather  better 
mounted  than  Fred,  but  yet  the  latter 
bad  about  two  minutes  the  start  of  him, 
and  that,  with  a  horse  at  speed,  is  no 
small  matter.  The  officer  probably  felt 
that,  for  he  fired  one  of  his  pistols  as  a 
signal  to  any  of  his  comrade*  who  might 


be  about,  to  let  them  know  mat  he  wai 
in  pursuit  of  Fred,  and  then  he  spurred 
forward  at  his  utmost  speed,  and  Fred 
heard  him  coming  fast  up  with  him. 

"  Hurrah  !"  cried  another  voice  from  a 
cross-road.  "  Hurrah !  we  have  him 
now." 

"  The  deuce  take  it,"  said  Fred,  "  they 
will  stop  me  now,  I  fancy.  Well,  W6 
will  see  what  sort  of  weapons  there  are 
in  the  holsters." 

With  a  pistol,  now,  in  each  hand,  and 
the  reins  in  his  teeth,  Fred  dashed  on, 
and  at  a  point  where  another  lane  inter- 
sected the  one  he  was  in,  a  mounted 
man  made  a  dash  at  the  bridle  of  hia 
horse,  but  failed  in  catching  it. 

"Try  again,"  said  Fred.  » 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  cried  the  man  ;  but 
Fred  was  twenty  yards  in  advance  before 
the  words  were  well  out  of  the  officer's 
mouth. 

The  sharp  report,  now,  of  a  couple  of 
pistols  after  him,  smote  upon  Fred's  ears, 
and  he  felt  a  strange  sensation  in  the  left 
shoulder,  as  if  a  sudden  blow  had  been 
struck  at  him. 

"  I  am  hit,"  said  Fred,  as  he  turned  in 
the  saddle  and  fired  one  of  his  pistols 
along  the  lane. 

With  what  effect  or  with  none,  he  had 
fired,  he  could  not  tell,  for  he  galloped 
on  at  once,  and  then  another  shot  was 
sent  after  him,  and  on  the  moment  the 
horse  fell,  and  Fred  was  pitched  over  bis 
head  into  the  middle  of  the  lane. 

Luckily,  Fred  had  kept  hold  of  the 
reins,  and  they  saved  him,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  the  consequences  of  the 
fall.  He  was  on  his  feet  again  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  standing  by  the  dead  body  of 
the  horse,  for  the  shot  had  killed  it. 

Flight,  just  at  that  moment,  was  ou^ 
of  the  question,  for  the  pursuing  horse- 
man was  too  close  upon  him,  so  Fred 
took  up  a  position  by  the  side  of  the 
body  of  the  horse,  with  the  other  holster 
pistol  in  his  right  hand. 

"  Surrender !"  cried  the  advancing 
horseman,  as  he  brought  his  steed  to  a 
stand.     "  Surrender,  Fearless  Fred  I" 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  Fred. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


87 


**  Pll  ride  you  down,  if  you  don't  give 
in  at  once." 

"Try  it?" 

"  Confound  you,  then,  here  goes." 

The    man   spurred   his  horse  against 

Fred    and    his    dead    steed,    but   Fred 

[     crouched  down,  and  the  animal  made  a 

!*    clean  leap  over  them  both,     Fred  rose 

,     again,  as  he  cried  out — 

"  Your  horse  is  better  bred  than  you 
"re.     Try  it  again." 

"  No,  I  won't  try  that  again,  but  I'll 
try  that." 

As  he  spoke,  he  fired  a  pistol  at  Fred, 
and  hit  him  in  the  cheek,  inflicting  a 
jash  through  it,  but  not  bv  any  means  a 
dangerous  wound,  although  Fred,  at  the 
moment,  thought  that  it  was  serious. 

"Coward,"  he  said.  "  You  have  but" a 
sorry  victory.  May  my  death  lie  heavy 
on  your  soul." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !"  laughed  the  officer,  "  we 
won't  trouble  ourselves  about  that." 

Poor  Fred  stood  bewildered  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two,  and  quite  forgot  the  pistol 
that  he  held  in  his  hand,  till  the  officer 
cried  out — 

"  Come,  now,  you  know  you  are  hit, 
and  if  you  have  any  fire-arms  about  you, 
you  had  better  fling  them  down,  or!  will 
treat  you  to  another  bullet." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Fred,  as  he  drop- 
ped on  one  knee.  "Now  look  out  for 
yourselves." 

"  Hold  !     Don't  be  a  fool." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.     Look  out." 

The  officer  crouched  down  upon  his 
saddle,  and  spurred  his  horse  to  despera- 
tion, but  the  animal  was  frightened,  and 
began  to  rear  so,  that  Fred  had  a  tolera- 
^  ble  fair  mark  to  fire  at.  Bangl  went  the 
well-rammed-down  pistol,  with  astunning 
report,  and  the  officer  fell,  with  a  loud 
cry  from  his  saddle,  and  the  horse  start- 
ed off  at  full  speed  dragging  him  along 
by  one  foot,  which  was  entangled  in  the 
Jtirrup. 

Fred  was  alone. 

"  I  am  killed,  I  suppose,"  said  Fred,  as 
he  fell  upon  the  dead  body  of  the  horse. 
"  Oh,  Jane — Jane,  il  I  could  but  have 
lived  a  little  longer  for  your  sake  1" 

Fred  lay  still  for  the  space  of  about 


ten  minutes,  fully  believing  that  his  last 
hour  had  come;  but  then  a  feeling cama 
over  him  that,  after  all,  it  might  be  pos- 
sible for  him,  wounded  as  he  w*s,  to 
reach  the  spot  where  the  cedar-box  was 
hidden. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  crawl  there,  at 
the  cost  of  any  amount  of  suffering,"  he 
said,  "  and  if  it  could  be  found  by  some 
one  in  my  grasp,  even  when  I  was  dead, 
all  might  be  well  with  Jane." 

This  idea  roused  him  to  mal^  every 
possible  exertion,  and  he  rose,  and  tot- 
tered along  the  lane.  The  wound  in  his 
shoulder  gave  him  the  most  pain,  now ; 
but  he  could  guess  that  the  wound  in 
the  cheek,  and  the  blood  that  had  pour- 
ed down  him,  must  give  him  a  very 
ghastly  look,  and  yet,  each  step  that  he 
now  took  he  gathered  hope,  for  he  found 
that  the  weakness  he  had  felt  did  not 
grow  upon  him,  and  that  was  every- 
thing. 

"I  shall  yet  doit,"  he  cried.  "Oh, 
yes,  I  shall  yet,  perhaps,  be  able  to  save 
Jane.  If  I  could  but  do  something  to 
those  rights  of  which  she  is  so  unjustly 
deprived,  before  I  die,  I  should  be  able 
to  render  up  my  last  breath  to  Heaven 
with  scarce  a  pang." 

It  is  astonishing  how  some  strong  m'ln- 
tal  resolve  will  at  once,  and  completely 
overcome  great  physical  depression.  It 
was  so  with  Fred,  for  there  is  very  little 
doubt  but  tliat  if  he  had  not  been  so  in- 
tent upon  securing  the  cedar-box  and  its 
contents  for  Jane,  he  would  have  died 
from  loss  of  blood  and  exhaustion  in  the 
lane. 

Now,  however,  so  sadly  wounded  aa 
he  was,  he  ran  on  until  the  lane  entered 
a  high  road,  and  he  paused  to  look  about 
him,  to  see  if  he  knew  the  spot. 

There  were  two  tall  trees  not  far  from 
him.  One  was  a  poplar,  and  the  other 
sycamore,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  lattei 
there  was  a  little  well  of  spring-water, 
the  pleasant  bubbling  of  which  over  the 
sides  of  a  rude  earthern  bisin  that  had 
been  constructed  to  hold  a  supply  of  it 
at  all  times,  free  from  impurities,  camo 
plainly  upon  Fred's  ears. 

With  a  sudden  cry  of  joy«  he  fell  U 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


the  earth  by  the  side  of  the  spring,  and 
then  he  just  iound  words  to  say — 

"  It  is  the  place  !  This  is  the  place  de- 
scribed by  Jane.  Oh, kind  Heaven!  sure- 
ly I  have  been  brought  here  to  save  her." 
It  was  some  minutes,  now,  before  Fear- 
less Fred  recovered  from  the  sudden  sur- 
prise and  the  shock  of  joy  that  had  come 
over  him,  and  then  amid  the  gloom  he 
looked  at  the  trees  again,  and  said,  ia  a 
soft  low  tone — 

"Oh,  yes — two  trees — one  a  poplar, 
and  the  other  a  sycamore,  and  a  spring 
among  their  roots.  They  call  the  spring 
'The  Old  Saints'  Well,'  too,  she  told  me. 
Ah  !  some  one  comes.  Who  is  this  ?  I 
am  unarmed  and  at  the  mercy  of  my 
enemies,  now.  I  have  but  a  small  knife 
that  I  brought  from  Mrs.  Block's." 

The  footsteps  that  he  had  heard  ap- 
proached rapidly,  and  then  he  heard 
some  one  whistling,  and  he  saw  by  the 
height  of  the  person  and  gait,  that  it 
was  a  boy- 
Fred  now  wished  to  make  assurance 
doubly  sure,  for  he  had  a  lurking  fear 
that  imagination  might  be  deceiving 
him,  and  making  him  think  he  had 
found  the  spot  he  sought,  while  he  might 
yet  be  far  from  it,  so  he  called  to  the 
boy. 

"  Hilloa,  my  lad  !     Hilloa,  there !" 
"  What  is  it,  master  ?"  said  the  boy. 
"What  do  they  call  this  spring?" 
"The  Old  Saints'  Well,  sir." 
"  Thank  you — thank  you.     Oh,  what 
blessed  words  !     It  is — it  is  the  place.  I 
will  save  you,  Jane,  now." 

The  boy  had  passed  on,  and  Fred  was 
a1oi>e  again. 

But  Fred  had  now  made  up  his  mind 
to  a  course  of  action  which  not  all  the 
world  could  have  by  any  possibility  turn- 
ed him  irom,  and  he,  with  at  the  moment 
a  pardonable  superstition,  looked  upon 
iais  presence  at  that  spot  a  something  like 
a  direct  evidence  of  the  approval  of  prov- 
idence to  the  course  which  he  intended 
to  pursue  from  that  time  forth. 

"I  will  save  Jane,"  he  repeated,  "or 
I  will  perish  in  the  attempt!" 

So  clearly  and  so  minutely  had  Jane 
detailed  to  Fred  wh^re  she  bad  hidden 


the  little  cedar-box,  that  there  oould  not 
be  the  most  remote  possibility  of  a  mis- 
take in  the  matter. 

If  by  no  chance  the  ground  had  been 
disturbed  at  the  spot,  then  the  box  would 
to  a  certainty  be  where  she  had  so  pru- 
dently and  with  so  much  forethought  for 
its  preservation  placed  it. 

"  This  is  the  spring,"  said  Fred,  as  he 
sat  down  beside  it,  "atfd  this  is  the  tree 
she  spoke  of." 

A  draught  of  clear  water  from  the 
spring  seemed  to  him  to  be  perfectly 
deircious,  and  to  renovate  his  strength 
most  wonderfully  ;  but  probably  his  de- 
light at  having  reached  that  spot,  which 
he  had  so  ardently  desired  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  reaching,  had  more  to  do 
with  the  renovation  of  his  strength  and 
his  spirits  than  the  draught  of  water  he 
had  taken,  although  we  are  by  no  means 
inclined  to  depreciate  the  many  good 
qualities  of  clear  water. 

But  to  return  to  Fred. 

His  great  care  now  was  to  feel  quite 
sure  that  no  one  was  at  all  near  him  to 
watch  his  actions,  for  if  any  one  had 
seen  him,  the  supposition  would,  without 
doubt,  be  that  he  was  seeking  for  some 
hidden  treasure  which  he  knew  to  be  in 
that  spot,  and  he  would  then  very  proba- 
bly have  a  contest  yet  for  the  possession  of 
the  cedar-box. 

Fred  was  in  no  good  condition  to  do 
battle  with  any  one  at  that  time,  so  his 
great  object  was  to  avoid  any  such  ne- 
cessity, if  he  possibly  could. 

A  very  few  moments  sufficed  to  con- 
vince him  that,  in  good  truth,  he  was 
alone  there ;  and  then  he  commeuceil 
his  search  beneath  the  old  tree. 

Ob,  what  anxious  moments  they  were, 
during  which,  with  such  inefficient  means 
as  he  possessed  for  such  an  object,  Fred 
disturbed  the  grass  and  mould  awav 
from  the  roots  of  the  old  tree.  At  one 
moment  he  was  the  prey  of  all  the  an 
guish  of  despair,  as  a  conviction  seemed 
to  shoot  across  him  that  the  box  he  so 
much  sought  was  not  there  ;  at  another 
a  ray  of  hope  crossed  his  heart  as  he 
told  himself  how  likely  it  was  that  he 
should  find  it  at  once. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


tfl 


"Ao — no,"  he  said.  "Why  should 
t  expect  to  be  so  very  fortunate  as  to  hit 
upon  the  exact  spot  in  which  she  placed 
the  box  ?  I  will  still  search,  and  I  will 
not  give  up  hope." 

And  he  extended  his  researches  round 
t"he  old  tree  ;  but  he  began  soon  to  des- 
pair again,  and  he  was  upon  the  point 
of  giviiig  up  the  search  as  useless,  when 
liirf  hand  touched  something  that  was 
within  a  portion  of  the  roots  of  the  tree 
by  a  stone. 

"  It  is  here — it  is  here  !"  he  cried. 

With  incredible  rapidity,  now,  Fred 
c/eared  aside  the  rubbish,  and  in  anoth- 
er moment  he  held  the  little  cedar-box 
in  his  hands. 

"  Yes,  tliere  was  the  cedar-box  that 
Peter  Bayley  had  risked  his  life  more 
than  once  to  get  possession  of.  There 
was  the  box,  which  the  earl  would  have 
yiven  a  good  thousand  pounds  at  any 
Lour  to  have  had  but  a  glance  at.  There 
Wiis  the  box,  which  had  been  the  cause 
of  so  much  persecution  to  Fearless  Fred 
whom  Peter  Bayley  thousrht  the  knowl- 
eilge  of  where  it  was  hidden  might  be 
extracted  from,  and  which,  no  doubt,  had 
saved  his  life  upon  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, from  the  dread  of  Peter  Bayley, 
that  if  Fred  were  dead  the  secret  of 
where  it  was  hidden  would  die  with  him. 

Wounded,  weak,  and  exhausted,  Fred 
hel'l  it  in  his  hands,  and  hugged  it  to 
his  heart. 

"  It  is  a  treasure,"  he  cried,  "  which 
may  yet  have  the  eftect  of  saving  Jane. 
I  feel  that  I  ought  not  now  for  a  mo- 
ment to  doubt  its  importance  to  her  and 
her  fortunes.  It  was  but  my  dread  that 
I  should  not  find  it,  which  made  me  for 
a  moment  or  two  try  to  delude  myself 
with  the  idea  that  it  was,  perchance,  of 
but  little  value  to  her.  It  is  a  treasure 
— a  treasure,  and  now  for  London." 

"  Halves  1"  cried  a  rough  voice,  and 
from  among  the  trees  close  at  hand  a 
man  sprang  out. 

Fred  was  upon  his  feet  in  a  moment. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

*  Halves,  young  fellow,  that's  all. — 
\ou  have  found  something  in  that  hole 
%i  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  I  cry  halves. 


That  is  fair,  all  the  world  over,  u  you 
know." 

"  Idiot  1" 

"  Come,  come,  you  had  better  keep  a 
civil  tongue  in  your  head,  or  I  may  takeA 
all.     What  is  it  ?"  • 

"  What  is  that  to  you  T 

'*  Oh,  I'll  soon  let  you  know  what  it 
is  to  me.  It  is  money,  of  course,  young 
fellow,  and  that  is  everything  to  me. 
Come,  now,  don't  be  a  fool,  or  else  I 
shall  not  be  very  particular  about  giving 
you  a  crack  ou  the  head,  and  taking  it 
all." 

'  'You  ?"  paid  Fred.  "  Why,  you  are 
not  armed." 

"  Am  I  not  ?  Perhaps  you  didn't  no- 
tice this  little  blackthorn  twig  that  I 
have  in  my  hand — Ha  I  ha  !  I  rather 
believe  that  a  tap  with  it,  young  fellow, 
will  settle  all  disputes  between  us." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Fred  ;  and 
then  maddened  at  the  idea  of  the  possi- 
bility of  having  the  cedar-box  wrested 
from  him  after  all  the  trouble  he  had  tif 
ken  to  possess  himself  of  it,  he  felt  as  if 
animated  by  the  strength  of  ten  men, 
and  with  a  fierce  cry  he  sprang  upon  the 
man  like  a  tiger  upon  its  prey,  and  so* 
sudden,  and  so  utterly  unexpected  was 
'the  attack,  that  Fred  had  the  blackthorn 
stick  out  of  the  fellow's  hand,  and  had 
brought  it  down  with  such  a  swinging 
blow  upon  his  head,  that  it  was  awful  to 
hear  it. 

The  man  fell  as  if  struck  by  light- 
ning. 

''  For  Jane  !  For  Jane !"  cried  Fred  ; 
and  still  holding  the  stick  in  his  hand, 
he  started  off  at  a  mad  pace  along  the 
road. 

Not  far,  however,  had  Fred  gone,  with 
the  stick  in  one  hand  and  the  cedar-box 
clasped  in  his  breast  by  the  aid  of  tho 
other,  when  he  heard  voices  calling  out 
loudly — 

"Stop  him — stop  him  I  There  he 
goes — stop  him  !" 

Frightened  with  the  idea  that  his  en- 
emies were  upon  his  track  ag;iin,  Fred 
made  a  dart  at  a  bank  by  the  road -side, 
and  breaking  through  a  heJge  at  the  top 
of  it,  he  fell  a  considerable  height  into  a 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


field,  an(]  sttuck  his  head  against  a 
plough  ihat  had  been  pl.iced  just  under 
the  hedge  on  the  field-side. 

For  a  moment  Fred  tried  to  rise,  and 
then  everything  sueined  to  swim  round 
with  him,  and  he  fell  back  again  insensi- 
ble to  the  ground,  still  clutching  the  co- 
dar-box,  although  the  stick  that  had 
done  him  such  good  service  had  fallen 
from  his  hands  in  his  fall. 

How  long  he  lay  in  this  state  of  in- 
sensibility poor  Fred  had  no  possible 
means  of  knowing,  but  he  was  awaken- 
ed by  water  splashing  in  his  face,  an  1 
when  be  opened  his  eyes  he  knew  not 
where  he  was  for  a  tiui'S. 

All  was  perfectly  dark  around  him. — 
There  was  a  dull  heavy  pain  in  his  head, 
and  he  was  devoured  by  fever,  so  that 
the  water  that  fell  upon  his  parched 
lips  and  skin  was  quite  a  boon. 

As  recollection  slowly  returned,  he 
heard  a  howling  wind  around  him,  and 
the  sough  of  it  in  the  tree  tops  as  it  ca- 
reered over  the  fields  and  through  the 
hedge-rows.  Then  he  found  that  he  was 
lying  in  a  field,  and  that  he  was  soaked 
by  rain,  which  was  still  comino-  down  in 
a  fearful  torrent. 

"  The  box,"  he  gasped,  "  the  cedar- 
box  !" 

A  gleam  of  joy  shot  across  his  heart : 
he  had  the  box  still  safely  in  his  grasp, 
although  his  fingers  were  quite  benumb 
ed  by  the  tenacity  with  which  he  had 
held  it  for  so  long. 

"  I  have  it,"  he  said,  «  I  have  it  still, 
and  that  is  everything.  How  long  have 
I  lain  here  ?  Oh,  Heaven,  has  cruel  for- 
tune not  punished  me  enough  now? 
Shall  I  never  be  able  to  reach  London 
with  this  box  ?  I  never  had  such  ill  for- 
tune as  this  when  I  was  enafajred  in  deeds 
that  were  wrong  and  indefensible  ;  but 
now  that  I  have  determined  upon  chanc- 
ing my  very  existence  to  do  some  good, 
T  am  thwarted  and  frustrated  at  every 
turn.  Oh,  help  me — help  me.  Heaven, 
for  the  sake  of  that  young  and  innocent 
being  whom  I  wish  to  save." 

Fred  found  that  he  was  a  little  better 
and  stronger  after  this  strange,  brief  and 
haif-complaining  prayer,  and   as   faDcy 


goes  a  long  way  towards  fulfilling  in  rtt- 
ality  its  suggestions,  there  is  no  doubt 
but  that  he  was  really  better. 

The  rain  still  came  down  in  perfec* 
torrents,  and  the  wind  at  times  swept  by 
in  such  impetuous  gusts,  that  it  would 
seem  as  if  it  would  be  impossible  for  th« 
strongest  trees  to  withstand  its  violence 
for  much  longer. 

A  water  course  that  was  close  t®  Fred, 
and  which  run  along  by  the  roots  of  the 
old  trees  and  bushes  in  the  hedge-row, 
had  increased  to  a  perfect  torrent,  and 
roared  and  bubbled  on  its  way  with  all 
the  importance  of  a  little  river. 

"  It  is  night,"  said  Fred,  "  and  what  a 
night — ana  yet  what  is  it  to  me,  if  I  did 
but  know  where  I  was?  My  head  is 
better.  The  rain  is  doing  wonders  for 
me  in  allaying  the  fever  that  was  con- 
suming me.  I  must  rise  and  find  my 
way  to  London  for  your  sake,  Jane." 

Poor  Fred  found  that  every  joint  in  his 
body  was  terribly  stitf  when  he  tried  to 
rise  to  his  feet,  and  that  made  him  sus- 
pect that  he  had  been  lying  a  long  while 
in  the  field  under  the  hedge-row. 

It  was  only  by  dint  of  stamping  upon 
the  ground  and  moving  to  and  fro  in  the 
field  for  some  ten  minutes  or  so,  that 
Fred  at  all  succeeded  in  restoring  his 
joints  to  anything  like  freedom  of  action, 
for  until  he  had  done  so  he  did  not  like 
to  attempt  to  cross  the  hedge  at  the  risk 
of  another  fall  into  the  road,  which 
might  disable  him  again. 

Oh,  what  would  he  not  have  given 
then  for  a,  sufficient  light  .to  enable  him 
to  open  the  cedar-box  and  look  at  its 
contents  !  He  had  an  idea  that  it  would 
be  better  to  take  the  papers  from  it  and 
conceal  them  about  him,  but  he  could 
not  see  to  do  so  where  he  was,  and  he 
dreaded  to  drop  the  smallest  fragment  ot 
them  in  the  field. 

"  No — no,"  he  said,  "  I  will  run  no 
risks.  Who  shall  say  that  I  might  not 
lose  the  most  important  document  of  all 
that  the  box  may  contain  ?  I  will  keep 
it  intact  until  I  have  light  wherewith  U 
look  well  at  its  contents." 

With  this  determination,  Fred  placed 
the  box  within  both  his  coat  and  Waist' 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


d) 


ooat,  and  although  it  pressel  rather  un- 
easily upon  his  chest,  he  buttoned  his 
coat  over  it,  and  felt  content  that  he  had 
it. 

The  box,  with  its  supposed  precious 
contents,  was  like  a  talisman  to  Fearless 
Fred,  and  appeared  capable  of  lifting 
him  far  above  all  petty  evils. 

Having  gained  the  roadway  now,  all 
he  hoped  was  that  some  one  would  speed- 
ily pass  of  whom  he  might  inquire  whieh 
way  he  ought  to  turn  his  face  to  reach 
London,  but  in  such  a  night  as  this,  and 
at  such  an  hour,  for  it  was  late,  it  seem- 
ed rather  a  doubtful  thing  that  be  should 
meet  anybody  at  all. 

"I  must  iuisband  my  strength,"  said 
Fred  to  himself.  "  If  I  take  half  a  doz- 
en steps  only  in  the  wrong  direction, 
those  half  dozen  steps  will  have  to  be 
retraced,  and  that  makes  a  dozen,  so  I 
will  sit  upon  the  bank  here,  and  wait  un- 
til some  one  passes." 

Fred  felt  very  weak  and  ill,  notwith- 
standing the  artificial  kind  of  courage 
by  which  he  w;vs  upheld,  and  as  he  sat 
upon  the  bank,  and  the  rain  poured  down 
upon  hiin,  he  could  not  help  some  of  the 
most  melancholy  reflections  concerning 
his  situation  coming  over  him. 

"  All,"  he  said — "  all  my  visions  of 
happiness  with  poor  dear  Jane  seem  now 
to  have  flown  to  the  wind.  Here  am  I, 
a  harmltss,  weak,  and  wounded  wander- 
er, by  the  way-side,  not  knowing  which 
way  to  turn  even  to  brave  the  dangers 
that  beset  my  path,  and  with  no  infor- 
mation as  to  whether  poor  Jane  be  dead 
or  alive." 

The  idea  that  it  was  possible  Peter 
Bayley,  instigated  by  the  earl,  might 
have  taken  the  life  of  Jane,  sent  such  a 
bewildering  pang  to  the  heart  of  poor 
Fred,  that  it  nearly  prostrated  him  where 
be  was.  and  there  is  very  little  doubt  but 
tha^if  the  least  confirmation  of  such  a 
notion  had  come  to  him,  but  that  he 
would  have  given  up  even  life  itself  along 
with  hope.  But  Fred  was  yet  in  his 
early  youth,  and  it  is  not  at  such  a  time 
that  despair  has  power  to  linger  long 
around  the  heart,  or  ia  the  chambers  of 
the  brain. 


For  a  time,  it  is  possible  ei.oiigh  ihal 
the  depressing  eflect  of  combating  cir- 
curastan'ces  may  be  greater  in  youth  than 
in  men  advanced  in  years;  but;  the 
spring-like  power  of  action  is  also  great- 
er; and  youth  rallies  from  difficulties 
and  depressions  which  would  utterly 
and  for  ever,  prostrate  age. 

So  was  it  with  our  friend  Fred. 

By  the  time  he  had  sat  for  some  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  upon  the  bank,  and  listen- 
ed to  the  wind  and  the  rain,  he  almost 
smiled  as  he  said — 

"  Ah,  no,  Heaven  never  made  such  a 
being  as  Jane,  to  be  the  victim  of  such  a 
man  as  Peter  Bayley.  No — no,  I  won't, 
and  I  can't  believe  that  such  is  possible. 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  look  now  at  what  ia 
in  this  box  !  Ah,  some  one  comes  sure- 
ly, or  is  it  but  the  patter  of  the  rain  in 
some  puddle  in  the  road?" 

Fred  had  thought  that  he  had  heard 
the  sound  of  a  footstep,  nor  was  he  mis- 
taken, for  a  few  moments  aftersvards  he 
heard  the  sound  more  plainly  again,  and 
then  he  heard  the  lowing  of  a  cow,  and 
a  voice. 

"Get  along  with  you,  do.  Here  is  a 
pretty  night's  work  I  have  had  to  find 
you,  and  no  end  of  damage  to  pay  for 
you,  you  wretch — all  owing  to  your 
straying  over  to  old  Mr.  Smith's  pasture, 
you  obstinate  beast,  when  you  have  a 
paddock  of  your  own,  and  as  comfortable 
a  dry  shed,  on  such  nights  as  these,  as 
any  cow  would  wish  to  have." 

The  cow  catne  splashing  along,  and 
the  crack  of  a  stick  now  and  then  upon 
the  hind  quarters  of  the  animal,  showed 
that  her  master  was  in  anything  but  « 
good  humor,  or  disposed  to  spaie  her  on 
account  of  her  contrary  propen>ities. 

"  Here,"  thought  Fred,  "  is  an  oppor- 
tuTiity  of  asking  my  way,  which,  will  not., 
probably,  occur  again  ;  so  I  will  go  out 
into  the'  road,  and  speak  to  this  man." 

Keeping  his  left  arm  firmly  clasped 
over  the  box,  which  he  had  placed  so 
close  to  his  heart,  Fred  stepped  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  road,  and  called  out,  iu 
as  cheerful  a  voice  as  he  could  assume — 

"Am  I  going  all  right  fur  London  ?'* 

*'  How  do  1  know  ?"   said    he    tmai., 


M 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


••  when  it  is  so  dark.  I  can't  see  which 
way  you  are  going  ;  but  I  have  no  doubt 
you  will  stop  my  cow. 

"  No,  I  wont ;  I  will  get  close  to  the 
hedge,  and  let  her  pass.  It  is  a  very 
rough  right." 

"  Well,  it  is.  Get  on,  will  you  ?  The 
way  to  London  is  behind  me  and  the  cow, 
that  is  to  say,  we  are  both  coming  from 
that  direction,  and  just  at  the  turn  of  the 
rohd,  you  will  see  a  sign-post.  No,  you 
won't,  though,  for  you  would  need  to 
have  the  eyes  of  a  dozen  cats  to  see  any- 
thing on  such  a  night  as  this. 

"Tliank  you,"  said  Fred.  "Good- 
night." 

"  But  you  ain't  going  to  walk  to  Lon- 
don, though,  such  a  night  as  this,  are 
you  ?"  said  the  man. 

"  Yes — yes.  I  must  reach  London, 
and  there  is  no  conveyance." 

"  Why,  its  eight  miles." 

"So  far?  Alas!  I  fear  lam  hardly 
able  to  walk  it ;  but  I  must  try.  Good- 
night, and  thank  you." 

"  Well,  but  the  mail-coach  will  be  up 
in  about  twenty  minutes,  if  you  like  to 
wait  for  it,  and  it  will  put  you  down  in 
Oxford-street  in  less  time  than  you  can 
walk  a  quarter  of  the  way." 

"  Indeed  ?     Will  it  surely  pass  here  V 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.     It  always  does." 

"  Thank  you — thank  you.  I  will  sit 
here  and  wait  for  it." 

Fred,  as  he  spoke,  felt  in  his  pocket  to 
assure  himself  that  he  had  not  lost  some 
money  that  Mrs.  Block  had  given  to  him, 
and  then  he  made  up  his  mind  to  avail 
himself  of  the  mail-coach  ;  for  the  idea 
of  Ills  walking  eight  miles  in  his  present 
Btate  was,  he  felt,  out  of  the  question. 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
will  wait  in  the  rain  ?"  said  the  man. 

"  Oh,  yts — yes.  I  have  nowhere  else 
to  wait." 

"  Come  to  my  cottage,  or  rather,  I 
ought  to  say,  my  dairy,  for  dairy  it  is 
that  I  keep.  It  is  only  a  little  further 
on,  and  its  no  great  odds  you  know, 
whether  the  mail  picks  you  up  a  little  on 
one  side  or  the  other  of  this  spot.  Fol- 
'ow  me  and  the  cow.     You  may  as  well 


be  under  shelter  for  twenty  minutea  a* 
not." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Fred  ;  '*  and  per- 
haps you  have  got  a  light,  too,  in  youf 
cottage.     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"A  light?  To  be  sure.  Why,  you 
don't  suppose,  do  you,  that  I  and  my 
wife  sit  in  the  dark,  hardly,  all  the  night! 
However,  I  can  tell  you,  we  wouldn't  bo 
up  at  this  time,  only  that  we  had  lost 
our  cow,  and  we  could  not  possibly  think 
where  she  had  gone,  till  it  struck  me 
about  half  an  hour  ago  that  it  was  as 
likely  as  possible  she  was  in  old  Smith's 
ten-acre  field." 

"  And  there  you  found  her  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  did.  Of  course.  You 
know  old  Smith  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do  not." 

"  Well,  I  did  think  that  everybody 
knew  him  ;  but  it  don't  matter.  So, 
come  on  at  once,  for  I'm  wet  through, 
and  I  daresay  you  are  quite  as  bad." 

"  Are  you  sure  we  shall  hear  the 
coach  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I'll  put  a  light  in  the  win- 
dow, and  when  the  guard  sees  that,  he 
will  guess  it  is  some  one  who  wants  to  go 
by  it,  and  he  will  blow  his  horn  so  you 
will  be  all  right." 

"  I  am  much  beholdt  n  to  you." 

"  Don't  mention  that.  Can  you-  see 
the  cow  ?" 

"Yes,  faintly." 

"  That  will  do,  then.  All  you  have  to 
do  is  to  keep  her  in  sight,  and  you  can't 
go  away,  and  we  shall  be  housed  in  a 
minute." 

Fred  could  just  see  the  bulky  object 
which  had  the  dim  resemblance  to  a  cow 
before  him,  and  he  followed  along  the 
road  till  the  man  called  out — 

"  Here's  the  gate.     Come  riglit  on." 

A  very  few  moments  were  sufficient 
now  to  take  Fred  into  the  parlor  of  a 
little  snug  cottage  that  was  by  the  l%ad- 
side.  A  piece  of  turf  was  smouldering 
away  upon  the  hearth,  by  the  aid  of 
which  the  cow-keeper  soon  lit  a  candle ; 
and  then,  as  the  light  irradiated  the  lit- 
tle cottage,  he,  for  the  first  time  had  a 
good  look  at  his  guest. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


OS 


•*  Good  gracioos !"  he  said. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Fred. 

"  Why,  wIjo  are  you  ?     Oh,  lor  !" 

"  Am  I  so  frightful  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  would  be  it 
yovL  were  soaped  and  cleaned  a  little; 
but  you  do  certainly  now  look  as  though 
you  had  been  through  all  the  ditches  in 
the  parish,  and  you  are  all  over  blood, 
U)o.  Why,  what  lias  happened  to  you 
to  make  you  in  such  a  .itate  ?" 

"  I  have  been  ill-used,"  said  Fred, 
fiiintlv. 

"  And  robbed  !" 

*'  01),  yes.  And  robbed.  But  I  have 
a  little  money  still  left;  and  if  you  will 
sell  me  a  drop  of  milk  and  a  bit  of 
broad,  I  sliall  not  only  pay  you  cheer- 
fully, but  be  very  much  obliged  to  you 
heside." 

-  I'll  call  my  wife." 

"  Nay,  do  not  do  that.  Recollect  how 
fast  the  time  is  going.  I  shall  have  to 
go  in  another  ten  minutes." 

"  That's  true.  Here's  some  new  milk, 
rtitd  here's  plenty  of  bread.  Stop  a  bit. 
ril  beat  up  some  new-laid  eggs  in  the 
milk  for  you,  and  that  will  do  you  most 
ijood.     But  who  are  you?" 

"Alas!  I  am  an  unfortunate  being: 
Uut,  will  you  pardon  me  for  being  so  rude 
Hs  to  look  if  my  papers  are  all  right, 
whilo  you  are  so  kind  as  to  get  me  the 
uiilk  and  eggs^V^ 

"  To  be  sure.  Do  just  as  you  like 
lu^re." 

With  eager  and  trembling  fingers, 
Fred  took  the  cedar-box  from  beneath 
his  coat,  and  began  to  untie  the  tape 
liiat  fastened  it. 

"  Now,"  he  thought,  "  at  length  the 
florets  of  this  box  will  be  known  to 
me." 

The  dairyman  proceeded  to  beat  up 
tl)e  eggs  for  Fred  in  the  milk,  and  he, 
Fred,  soon  got  the  cedar-box  open.  It 
w;ia  quite  fall  of  papers  ;  but  the  upper- 
most one  was  wafered  to  the  lid,  partial- 
ly, and  had  upon  it  these  words: — 

"  If,  upon  the  sudden  death  of  Lolanti, 
this  box  and  its  contents  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  any  one  inclined  to  do  an 
let  of  great  justice,  let  him   take  it  at 


once  to  some  high  legal  authority,  and 
placing  it  in  such  hands,  demand  that 
tardy  justice  should  at  length  be  don« 
to  the  oppressed." 

*'Yes,  I  will  !'.'  cried  Fred. 

"Eh?"  said  th(  dairyman. 

"Nothing — oh,  nothing." 

"  Dear  nie  !  I  thought  you  were  tA 
ken  suddenly  ill." 

"Oh,  no — no,  my  good  friend.  I  was 
only  speaking  to  myself,  that  was  all.  1 
am  very  anxious  concerning  my  papers, 
you  perceive,  that  is  all.  Pray,  do  not 
hetd  me,  my  good  sir." 

"Oh,  very  well." 

With  trembling  eagerness,  Fred  lard 
his  hands  upon  a  foMed  paper  that  lay 
next  to  the  one  he  had  read,  and  after 
casting  his  eye  over  it  for  a  few  moments, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  crying — 

"  The  coach — the  coach  !  Where  is 
it  ?  Oh,  why  does  it  not  come  at  once, 
and  convey  me  to  London  ?  Jane ! 
Jane  !  you  will  be  saved — you  will  be 
I  rich  and  great — oh,  God  !  and  I  shall  be 
I  the  means  of  making  you  so — my  own 
j  very  beautiful  Jane!" 

"  lie's  mad,"  said  the  dairyman,  as  he 

'caught  up  a  large  milk  pail,  and  held  it 

before  him,  in  an  attitude  of  defence. — 

"  Keep    off     now — don't — don't — Lie 

down,  poor  fellow,  do." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

"  Lie  down  !  Come — come,  look,  at 
my  eyes.  Down  with  you  !  Be  good, 
now,  will  you  ?" 

"  I  am  not  mad,  I  assure  you." 

"Of  course  not.  I  did  not  expect  for 
a  moment  that  you  would  own  to  it,  but 
mind,  I  haven't  done  anything  to  you 
—keep  off !" 

"  Why  will  you  persist  in  such  a  de- 
lusion ?  I  assure  you  that  the  exclama- 
tions I  uttered  merely  had  some  refer- 
ence to  a  discovery  I  had  made  by  read- 
ing one  of  these  papers.  It  is  a  discov- 
ery that  has  filled  me  with  joy.  Indeed. 
I  am  as  sane  as  you  are,  I  fissure  you." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ?" 

"Quite,"  said  Fred,  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you  do  look 
quite  so  mad  now ;  but  you  rather 
alurmcd  me.     II:>wever,  here's  jrour  cggi 


»4 


FEARLESS  f  RED. 


kna  milk.     It  19  a  wonder  that  I  did  not 
upset  them  all  in  my  fright." 

"Thank  you — thank  you.  In  a  mo- 
ment." 

Fred  hastily,  but  securely,  tied  up  the 
cedar-box  again,  and  secured  it  in  its 
former  position  beneath  his  coat ;  and 
then  he  eagerly  partook  of  the  eggs  and 
the  milk,  which  he  hoped  would  give 
him  strength  to  proceed  to  London, 
and  do  what  he  had  to  do  in  Jane's 
cause. 

"  Many  thank","  said  Fred,  as  he  took 
some  money  from  his  pocket.  "  You 
have  done  me  a  great  favor." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  about  paying.  That 
will  do  another  time,  and  there  is  the 
mail-coach.  Hark  !  don't  you  hear  the 
tread  of  the  horses'  feet  ?" 

"  I  do — I  do.  Oh,  stop  it  for  me.  I 
would  not  miss  it  for  a  thousand  pounds. 
Stop  it  for  me,  I  beg  of  you.  I  am  too 
weak  to  call  out  loud  enough,  I  fear." 

The  mail-coach  with  its  four  horses, 
came  dashing  on ;  but  the  dairyman 
reached  the  door  of  his  cottage  in  time 
'to  call  out,  "Hoi  !"  in  such  a  tone  that 
if  the  coach  had  been  a  mile  off,  his 
voice  would  surely  have  reached  it. 

The  coach  pulled  up. 

"A  gentleman  for  London,"  cried 
Fred. 

"  All's  right,  sir,"  said  the  guard. — 
"  Inside  ?" 

"  No,  out.     It's  a  fine  night." 

"  A  fine  night,  sir  ?  Why,  it's  a  pour- 
ing, and  has  been  for  these  six  hours 
past  or  more." 

*'  I  like  it,"  said  Fred,  as  he  climbed 
up  to  the  outside  of  the  coach,  where 
there  was  not  a  single  passenger  be- 
Bides. 

"  Well,  my  eye  1"  said  the  guard, 
"  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes.  All's 
right.  Bill." 

"  Kim  up,"  said  the  coachman,  from 
the  recesst-s  of  about  half  a  dozen  hand- 
kerchiefs that  was  round  his  neck,  and 
off  started  the  maU-coach  again,  at  a 
good  ten  miles  an  hour  for  London." 

Fred  could  not  help  having  a  vivid  re- 
collection of  the  remarks  which  the  man 
at  the  dairy  had  made  upon  his  person- 


al appearance,  and  he  blessed  his  stan 

that  the  night  was  so  dark  a  one  thai 
the  guard  of  the  mail-coach  could  nox 
have  the  slightest  idea  of  the  condition 
of  the  passenger  the  vehicle  had  been 
stopped  to  take  up. 

There  can  be  no  question  but  that  if 
the  guard  had  seen  him,  he  would  have 
met  the  offer  of  such  a  passenger  by  a 
most  decided  negative ;  for  certainly 
never  was  any  naturally  well-louking  per- 
son in  so  truly  awful  a  plight  as  was 
poor  Fred  upon  that  occasion. 

What  with  the  blood  from  the  wound 
in  his  head,  and  the  mire  from  the  road 
and  the  bank,  and  the  field,  and  the  rain 
which  had  washed  all  that  down  his  un- 
fortunate face  in  long  streaks,  he  looked 
as  abject  a  wretch  as  the  iinaginatioii 
can  possibly  jiicture. 

But  what  did  lie  care  ?  His  heart 
was  lighter  now  than  it  had  been  for  a 
long  time.  He  had  the  ceJar-box  in 
perfect  safety,  and  he  knew  the  secret  of 
its  contents — that  secret  which  will  soon 
now  be  known  likewise  to  the  reader ; 
and  if  he  could  only  have  Iven  quite 
sure  that  Jane  still  lived,  he  would  liav« 
sung  for  joy. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  his  arguments 
to  the  contrary,  the  dread  notion  that 
Jane  might  have  been  murdered  by  Pe- 
ter, would  at  times  come  across  him,  and 
chill  his  very  heart.  Vehenienrly  and 
steadily,  however,  had  Fred  held  that 
supposition  at  arms-length,  for  he  felt 
that  if  he  only  begun  once  seriously  te 
entertain  it,  that  it  would  soon  lay  hold 
of  his  imagination  and  crush  him  with 
the  mental  agony  it  would  inflict  upon 
him. 

The  coach  dashed  on  through  mud 
and  through  rain  upon  its  way,  and  very 
soon  the  lights  of  the  great  city  began 
to  be  visible  to  the  scrutinizing  eyes  of 
Fearless  Fred. 

It  was  then  that  Fred,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands  so  as  to  shut  out  ex- 
ternal objects,  gave  himself  up  to  thought 
for  a  short  time  as  to  the  best  manuei 
in  which  he  could  obey  the  injunctioni 
of  that  paper  which  had  evidently  beei 
written  by  Lolanti. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


95 


"Yes,"  said  Fred,  "I  feel  that  that 
advice  or  that  command,  call  it  which 
I  may,  is  good,  and  I  will  carry  it  out, 
let  it  cost  me  personally  what  it  may.  I 
will  take  this  cedar-box  and  its  contents 
even  as  it  is,  and  even  as  I  am,  to  some 
great  personafje,  upon  whom  shall  rest 
the  responsibility  of  acting  upon  their 
contents." 

The  sound  of  the  horn  of  the  guard  o' 
the  coach,  as  the  vehicle  rattled  through 
the  northern  suburbs  of  London,  now  re- 
called Fred  to  considerations  of  the  pre- 
sent rather  than  the  future. 

Looking  around  him,  he  saw  that  the 
coach  was  close  upon  the  long,  straggling 
thorough t';i re  of  Tottenham-court-road, 
then  but  very  partially  built  upon,  and 
to  the  left  as  you  came  into  town  quite 
open  to  fields. 

Tlie  coach  dashed  on  and  turned  into 
Oxford -street,  where  the  lights  of  the 
street  were  more  numerous,  and  Fred  felt 
that  a  discovery  of  his  wretched  plight 
must  be  soon  made. 

The  inn-yard  into  which  the  coaeh 
would  enter  now  loomed  upon  his  sight, 
with  a  glare  of  light  just  within  it. 

Poor  Fred  would  have  given  anything 
in  his  power  to  get  out  of  the  glare  of 
the  great  lauip  in  the  inn  gateway,  but 
that  was  impossible.  If  he  had  made 
an  attempt  to  leave  the  coach,  it  is  ten  to 
one  but  that,  as  it  was  going  at  a  tolera- 
ble speed,  he  would  have  met  with  a  se- 
vere fall,  an<i  possibly  have  done  himself 
so  much  injury  as  to  interfere  with  his 
plans  regarding  the  cedar-box  and  its 
contents. 

"  I  must  evade  the  questions  and  the 
remarks,"  he  said,  to  himself,  "  of  all 
those  who  choose  to  make  them. 

With  a  rattle  and  a  dash  the  coach 
entered  the  inn-yard,  and  as  ill  luck 
would  have  it,  the  coachman  drew  up  so 
exactly  under  the  light  of  the  lamp,  that 
the  full  rays  were  thrown  on  to  the  roof, 
tnd  exhibited  the  squalid  mud-bedag- 
gled  figure  of  poor  Fred. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  guard,  **I  hope 
you  are  not  very  wet  ?  Hilloa !  hoi  ! 
why  what  the  d — 1  is  this  ?" 

••Wbat's   the   row,   Ben?"   said   the 


coachman  speaking  from  amid  the  foldi 
of  all  his  handkerchiefs,  and  wrappers, 
and  coats. 

"Why,  look  here  Bill,  what  a  pretty 
passenger  we  picked  up  on  the  road. 
By  George,  it's  some  scarecrow  from  a 
wheatfield." 

"  Oh,  I'm  blowed !"  said  the  coach 
man. 

"  What  is  your  fare  ?"  said  Fred. 

"  Our  fare  ?  Oh,  lor  !  Why,  our  fare 
is  half-a-crown,  but  you  haven't  got  it, 
that's  clear  enough." 

"There  it  is." 

"  A  bad  'un,  of  course." 

"You  scoun.lrel  !"  said  Fred.  "If  I 
was  not  better  engaged,  I  would  make 
you  repent  this  insolence.  The  money 
is  good.  Take  it,  and  beware  how  vou 
and  I  encounter  each  other  another 
time,  when  I  have  leisure  and  inclination 
to  punish  insolence." 

Fred  flung  the  half-crown  on  to  the 
pavement  of  the  inn-yard,  and  sprang  to 
the  ground  at  the  same  moment. 

A  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  came 
to  the  door  of  the  inn  at  the  moment  of 
Fred's  alighting,  and,  in  fact,  Fred  came 
close  to  his  very  feet. 

"What's  ail' this?"  said  the  man. — 
Hilloa!  Stop!  "Murder!  Help!  This 
is  Fearless  Fred,  the  highwayman  !  Hold 
him  !     Stop  him  !" 

Fred  sent  the  offieer,  for  it  was  in 
truth  one,  reeling  aufainst  the  wall  with 
one  well-directed  blow,  and  then  he 
dashed  out  of  the  inn-yard  before  any 
one  could  venture  to  slop  liiui. 

Luckily  for  our  poor  friend  Fred,  the 
streets  at  that  hour — for  it  was  half 
past  eleven  o'clock  at  night — were  toler- 
ably slack  of  passengers  ;  another  hour, 
and  they  would  be  fuller,  for  then  the 
theatres  and  the  taverns  would  have  giv- 
en forth  their  contents  ;  but  as  it  was, 
there  were  not  many  persons  to  stand  in 
the  way  of  even  such  a  fugitive  as  Fear- 
less Fred,  and  especially  was  that  the 
case  as  regarded  the  west-end  of  the 
town,  to  which  he  was  directing  his  has- 
ty steps  as  best  he  might  upon  his  mis- 
sion. 

He  heard  the  shout   behind  him  of 


M 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


"Stop  hiu— stop  thief r  That  awful 
cry  to  the  poor  wretch  who  feel  that  it 
Is  levelled  at  him,  and  that  he  is  hunted 
by  his  fellow-creatures  from  street  to 
etreet,  atul  that  in  every  one  he  meets  he 
sees  but  a  foe. 

Fred  dashed  wildly,  but  not  altogeth- 
er unthinkingly,  on,  for  he  took  a  route 
that  lie  had  determined  upon  as  he  sat 
on  the  coach  top  amid  all  the  soaking 
rain. 

It  was  to  the  residence  of  the  Lord 
Chancellor  of  England  that  Fearless  Fred 
the  higliwayman,  upon  whose  head  there 
was  set  a  price,  wended  his  way  with 
pursuers  at  his  heels. 

Now,  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  that  pe- 
riod resided  in  Piccadilly  in  a  large 
house  nearly  facing  the  upper  or  western 
end  of  the  Green  Park,  and  it  so  hap- 
pened that  on  that  night  he  gave  a  grand 
entertainment  to  the  judges  and  other 
personages  connected  with  the  courts  of 
law  and  judication  of  the  kingdom. 

So  much  legal  wisdom  had  scarcely 
ever  before  been  collected  together  be- 
neath one  roof  as  that  night  could  have 
here  produced  beneath  the  Lord  Chancel- 
lor's. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

DANGEROUS    CONDITION    OP   JANE. 

Wfi  feel  compelled,  notwithstanding 
the  exceedingly  critical  position  in  whicti 
we  leave  poor  Fred,  to  repair  to  Newgate 
street,  for  the  pui-pose  of  glancing  at  the 
condition  of  Jane,  whom  we  have  been 
scarcely  able  to  think  of  while  following 
the  varied  course  of  Fred  since  the  time 
when,  wounded  and  insensible,  he  lost  her 
upon  the  road. 

Probably  the  greatest  safeguard  that 
Tane  experienced  in  her  situation  of  pri- 
son in  the  house  of  Peter  Bay  ley  con- 
sisted in  the  fact  that  the  woman,  or  mis- 
tress, of  the  thief-taker,  regarded  the  poor 
girl  in  the  light  of  a  rival,  who  would 
eventually  supplant  her  in  the  affections 
of  Bay  ley,  and  therefore  hated  and  per- 


secuted her  with  all  the  venom  of  a  Ion 
and  brutally  passionate  mind.  Th« 
creature  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  aV 
tempt  the  life  of  the  unhappy  Jane,  who, 
from  that  moment,  instinctively  trembled 
at  the  bare  presence  of  Mrs.  Popham,  aa 
her  persecutor  was  called  throughout 
the  thief-taker's  establishment.  This  at- 
tempt upon  the  life  of  Jane,  was  pre* 
vented,  at  the  critical  moment,  by  no  less 
a  personage  than  Peter  Bailey  himself, 
who,  from  that  hour,  looked  upon  him- 
self as,  in  some  measure,  the  young 
girl's  defender,  and  for  better  security, 
from  the  malignancy  of  his  old  and  jeal- 
ous mistress,  removed  Jane  from  the 
habitable  part  of  the  house,  to  one  of 
the  many  cells  which  formed  the  under* 
ground  portion  of  the  miscreant's  estab- 
lishment. This  removal  of  the  fair  ob- 
ject of  her  jealousy,  inflamed  the  jealous 
fury  of  the  old  hag  to  a  still  higher 
pitch  ;  and  she  spent  the  greater  part  of 
her  time  in  pondering  over  the  means  by 
which  she  could  reach  and  destroy  the 
unhappy  Jane. 

The  frightful  compact  between  Peter 
Bay  ley  and  the  Earl  of  Broughton  for 
the  murder  of  Jane  still  remained  intact 
in  both  their  minds,  and  the  reader  can 
easily  conceive  that  they  were  not  ex- 
actly the  sort  of  men  to  alter  their  de- 
termination in  cases  where  any  rascality 
was  concerned. 

It  had  been  agreed  on  that  Jane  should 
be  violently  sent  upon  her  pilgrimage  to 
another  and  a  better  world  than  this  up- 
on the  next  night  but  one  to  that  upon 
which  such  a  consummation  of  the  per- 
secution which  she  had  endured  had 
been  resolved  upon. 

Jane  little  suspected  that  to  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  earl  and  of  Peter  Bay- 
ley  her  hours  were  numbered ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  part  which  Bayley  had  ta- 
ken upon  the  occasion  of  the  attack  of 
Mrs.  Popham  upon  her  had  tended  to 
in)press  her  with  the  belief  that  no  per- 
sonal injury  was  intended  her,  but  thai 
any  means  would  be  resorted  to  to  in- 
duce her  to  make  the  disclosures  that 
were  so  much  wished  by  the  earl. 

Of  course,  the  principal  secret  sho  had 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


91 


to  keep  consisted  in  the  fact  of  where  she 
had  hidden  the  cedar-box,  and  if  Bayley 
could  only  have  convinced  her  that  Fearless 
Fred  was  dead,  she  would  not  further  have 
hesitated  to  tell  all  she  knew,  for  then  she 
would  have  felt  that  life  for  her  had  lost  all 
hope,  and  that  all  she  had  to  look  for  would 
be  that  species  of  sevenity  which  is  after  all 
but  a  mockery  of  happiness,  but  which  time 
generally  vouchsafes  to  the  most  wretched. 

It  is  now  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day — 
the  day  anterior  to  the  night  when  the  Earl 
of  Brou2:hton  is  to  come  with  his  two  thou- 
gand  pounds  to  Peter  Bayley,  and  upon 
which  occasion  he  is  to  see  the  deed  done 
which  is  for  ever  to  rid  him  of  Jane. 

Why  he  so  ardently  desired  to  be  rid  of 
Jane  the  reader  lias  already  a  suspicion  ;  but 
all  that  will  be  made  clear  very  shortly. 

And  now  it  will  hardly  be  believed,  consi- 
dering who  and  what  Peter  Bayley  was,  and 
knowing  how  pililoss— how  absolutely  fiend- 
like  in  its  renionselessness  his  course  had  been, 
that  he  began  to  shrink  from  the  perform- 
ance of  the  deed  which  the  night  coming  was 
to  witness,  if  all  things  happened  according 
to  arrangement  between  him  and  the  earl. 

We  can  olfer  but  two  reasons  for  this  un- 
accountable weakness  upon  the  part  of  Peter 
Bayley. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  the  youth  and 
b(;auty  of  Jane  had  had  an  effect  even  npon 
the  liinty  heart  of  that  man  of  many  crimes, 
which  proved  that  even  he  had  left  some 
faint  remnants  of  human  feeling  in  his  bo- 
som. 

It  would  seem  to  be  impossible  for  any 
human  being  to  exist  at  all,  and  be  utterly 
dead  to  all  feelings. 

That,  then,  was  one  of  the  reasons  of  Bay- 
ley's  timid  shrinking  from  the  murde-  of  Jane. 
The  other  was,  perhaps,  one  that  he  did  not 
l)im3elf  understand,  and  that  he  never  for  a 
moment  suspected.  It  consisted  in  the  fact 
that  he  had  defended  her  from  Mrs.  Popham  ; 
and  it  is  a  principle  of  human  nature  that 
what  we  defend  and  protect  we  are  much  in- 
dined  to  continue  deli'nding  and  protecting. 

Hence,  then,  was  it  that  Bayley,  if  any 
other  mode  of  keeping  faith  with  the  earl, 
and  of  earning  the  sum  of  money  he  had 
been  promised  for  the  deed,  would  have  been 
glad  to  spare  Jane. 

The  afternoon  deepened  into  evening,  and 
yet  there  were  many  hours  between  then  and 
midnight,  when  the  wicked  earl  was  to  come 
tt  Newgate  Street  and  claim  the  perform- 
ance of  the  dreadful  contract,  so  that  Peter 
bad  time  to  think. 

Uaviug  quite  recoyered  sofficieotly  from 


his  hurts  to  be  in  much  his  usual  sti.te,  Bay. 
ley  sat  in  his  private  room  in  deep   thought. 

"  What  can  I  do,"  he  muttered,  "  to  sav* 
the  girl  ?  If  I  could  only  cheat  that  rascal 
Broughton,  all  would  be  well.  I  must  think 
of  some  method  of  doing  so.  Who  knows, 
though,  but  that  the  giri  may  relent  yet  ?  I 
have  a  great  mind  at  the  risk  even  of  being 
more  weakened  in  my  resohni.u)  than  I  am 
to  visit  her  again,  and  by  what  I  can  do  to 
persuade  her  to  purchase  lilc  and  liberty  by 
telling  where  the  cedar-box  is  to  be  found. 
By  Heaven!  if  she  does  tell,  Broughton 
shall  not  have  her  life." 

With  this  determination,  Bayley  rose  at>d 
abruptly  opened  the  door  of  his  room.  Mrs. 
Popham  was  immediately  outside. 

"  What  do  you  do  here?"  growled  Bay- 
ley. 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?" 

"  Ah !  is  that  the  game  you  are  going  to 
play  ?  Are  you  not  alraid  to  speak  to  rae 
in  that  way?" 

"  No,  I  ain't  ;  and  for  half  a  pin,  I'd  go 
to  Mr.  Sheriff  Watkins,  and  tell  him  all 
about  his  plate,  and  how  you  kept  it  til] 
you  thought  the  reward  enough  to  make  it 
worth  your  while  to  give  it  up  ;  and  if  I  do, 
you  know  as  well  as  1  do  that  you  will  be 
hanged,  Peter." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Yes,  you  have  enemies." 

"  And  friends,  too,  my  sweet  Mrs.  Pop- 
ham. The  secretary  of  state  finds  me  too 
useful  in  taking  political  pri.^oners  to  make 
an  end  of  me.  flow  many  Jacobites,  now, 
do  you  thick  I  have  laid  hold  of?" 

"Idon'tcaie;  but  you  shan't  bully  and 
bluster  at  me.  I  know  what  you  are  at  well 
enough." 

"What?" 

"  Oh,  forsooth,  you  ugly  old  beast,  yon 
must  take  a  fancy  to  that  child  who  is  in  the 
cells.  Do  you  think  I  have  no  eyes  in  my 
head?"       ^  ^  ^ 

"  Two,  Mrs.  Popham,  and  they  both 
squint  dreadfully." 

"  Wretch  T 

"  Ha  I  ha  I  My  dear  woman,  go  to  your 
comforter — your-  rum  or  your  brandy.  1 
don't  know  which  delightful  compound  it  is, 
now,  that  you  give  the  preference  to  ;  but  I 
can  assure  you  that  you  are  a  most  amiable 
woman  when  you  are  so  drunk  that  you  can 
neither  stand,  walk,  nor  speak." 

"  Never  mind  that.  I'll  ha\e  that  girl's 
life  yet." 

"  Will  you,  indeed  ?" 

"  Yes  I  have  sworn  it.  She  shall  die  lij 
my  bands.    I  don't  want  auy  of  your  pink 


•8 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


faced,  'fr '^t'^yec!  r'j\'^ren  brought  here  with 
their  r.r;i  aiid  grac.-?,  'Jot  I ;  and,  I  tell  you, 
I  wi'l  dispose  of  }iee  ' 
"  W"e  shall  see  t/)'it." 

"  Yos.  we  sha'l,  l-'cter ;  and  I  know  you 
are  going  to  he?  /)jw.  It  is  no  use  of  your 
trying  to  doc^i  r;  nie.  You  are  going  to 
meet  her  no^^  t'jo  little  vixen,  I  know  you 
are." 

"  For  o-yjp  m  a  way,"  said  Bayley,  as  he 
sorted  bis  I'dys  to  get  hold  of  the  master  one 
thi».t  opened  all  the  locks  in  the  house,  "  you 
are  rigbi,  ir.y  dear  Mrs.  Popham.  I  am  go- 
in}^  to  /.fit  Jane." 
"  Oy*,  i  shall  expire  I" 
"  Af  f/)ou  as  you  like.  Don't  let  me  hind- 
er yen,  madam.  I  can  only  say  that  I  shall 
do  Vj^  Tery  best  to  survive  such  a  calamity, 
^nd  to  bear  it  with  resignation." 

31r8.  Popham  eeemed  for  a  few  moments 
10  be  meditating  a  spring  upon  Bayley,  to 
crenge  herself  upon  liim  for  his  conduct ;  but 
'wudence  and  recollection  came  to  her  aid, 
snd  prevented  her.  She  had  tried  before 
;hat  mode  of  settling  their  little  differences, 
ind  had  come  off  rather  the  second  best  in 
the  affray,  for  Bayley  was  not  very  particu- 
lar. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  with  a  forced  calm- 
ness. "  Wait  a  little — wait  a  little,  that's 
all." 

Bayely  laughed  scornfully  as  he  walked 
down  the  long  narrow  passage  that  led  to 
the  cells.  But  although  in  presence  of  Mrs. 
Popham,  Baily  laughed,  and  affected  to  make 
light  of  her  threats,  he  did  not  do  so  to  his 
mind  ;  and  as  he  closed  the  df^or  at  the  end 
of  the  long  passage  after  him,  and  descend- 
ed the  flight  of  stone  stairs  leading  to  the 
lower  regions  of  the  house,  he  muttered  in 
rather  anxious  tones — 

'•  That  woman  knows  quite  enough  to  be 
very  dangerous  if  she  chooses  to  be  so.  If 
I  only  thought  that  she  really  meditated  any 
mischief,  I  would  take  care  that  it  would 
need  to  be  her  ghost  that  carried  it  out,  if  it 
were  carried  out  at  all,  for  she  should  not,  in 
this  world,  have  the  opportunity  of  so  do- 
ing." 

Bayley  took  good  care  to  secure  the  nu- 
merous doors  behind  him  as  he  went  to  the 
cells,  and  taking  then  a  small  oil  lamp,  which 
burnt  with  a  sickly  and  uncertain  radiance 
upon  a  niche  in  the  wall,  he  soon  reached  the 
long,  damp,  narrow  passage  from  where  open- 
ed the  cells  that  he  had,  in  defiance  of  all  au- 
thority, or  all  right,  had  constructed  in  con- 
nexion with  his  house ;  thus,  at  once,  con- 
verting it  into  a  prison,  where  he,  from  his 
own  personal  feelings,  might  immure  any  one 


without  a  shadow  of  law  or  Jastice  to  favoi 

the  act. 

"  Now,"  said  Bayley,  "  If  I  can  but  per- 
suade her  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and 
to  tell  me  all  that  the  earl  so  much  wishes  to 
know,  she  shall  not  be  sacrificed,  poor  young 
thing,  for  that  would  be  a  pity.  I  will  try 
her  again  about  Fred's  death.  Let  me  con 
sider.  What  shall  I  say  to  her  upon  that 
head  ?     Oh,  I  have  it." 

Bayley  advanced  to  the  door  of  the  cell, 
and  listened  for  a  few  moments.    He  heard 
a  low,  soft,   moaning  voice,  and  then  he 
shook  in  every  limb. 
Jane  was  praying. 

The  coward  color  forsook  the  cheeks  of 
that  bold,  bad  man  as  he  heard  the  name  of 
God  pronounced  by  the  lips  of  that  innocent 
young  girl,  and,  with  a  deep  groan,  Petw 
Bayley  dropped  upon  his  knees  at  the  iron 
door  of  the  cell. 

As  Bayley  sunk  to  his  knees  upon  the 
cold,  damp  floor  outside  Jane's  cell,  she  be- 
gan to  sing  in  a  low,  sweet,  plaintive  voice, 
the  verse  of  a  psalm  that  she  had  learnt 
when  she  was  quite  a  little  girl. 

The  tones  were  so  sweet,  and  now  and 
then  so  broken  by  sobs,  and  the  words  were 
so  simple  and  innocent  an  appeal  to  tiiat  Di- 
vinity who  loves  innocence  and  simplicity; 
that  Bayley  felt  as  if  at  that  moment  he 
were  about  to  choke.  He  soon  recovered  hia 
equanimity,  however,  and  rising,  he  turned 
the  lock,  entered  the  cell,  and  placed  the 
lamp  upon  the  floor.  It  cast  a  strange  light 
upon  his  hideous  features,  which  were  still 
covered  with  plasters. 

"  I  heard  yoru  speaking  just  now,"  he  said. 
"  What  were  you  saying  ?" 
"  I  was  only  praying." 
"  Praying  ?  Oh,  that  won't  do  you  much 
good.  But  it's  a  matter  of  taste,  so  we 
needn't  quarrel  about  that.  Come  now, 
you  want  fresh  air,  and  light,  and  sunshine, 
and  flowers,  and  you  would  like  to  hear  the 
songs  of  birds,  and  the  rippling  of  streams,, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  would  you  not?" 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  yes.  Why  do  you,  in  this 
place,  agonize  my  heart  by  reminding  me 
that  there  are  such  things  ?  This  is  a  re- 
finement upon  cruelty." 

"  No.  I  want  you  to  enjoy  all  tTiat  I 
make  mention  of.  You  are  youn;»',  and  pret- 
ty, as  they  say  angels  are.  Well,  I  make 
war  upon  men,  not  upon  such  as  you  are.  I 
want  to  let  you  go,  and  so,  as  you  said  yon 
would  not  tell  me  whether  Fearless  Fred 
lived,  I  have  busied  myself  in  finding  out 
whether  he  really  was  alive  or  dea«l." 
Jane  looked  at  him  with  staring  eyes. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


9% 


"  Xow,"  she  said,  "  you  are  going  to  try 
to  kill  me  by  the  relation  of  some  dreadful 
utory.  but  I  will  not  believe  it," 

"  Well,  that  you  can  do  as  you  like  about. 
I  tell  you  he  is  no  more,  and  you  shall  see 
his  dead  body." 

"  No — no  !" 

♦*  Oh,  well,  if  you  won't,  ycu  won't,  but 
it's  the  only  way  I  have  of  convincing  you 
of  the  fact,  if  you  won't  take  my  word  for 
it.  Will  you  believe  me,  then,  that  he  is 
dead  ?" 

Jane  shuddered. 

"  His  last  words,"  added  Bayley,  "  were 
addressed  to  you.  We  could  hardly  hear 
him,  for  the  blood,  hot  and  frothy  as  it  was, 
was  welling  up  in  his  throat,  and  the  doctor 
eaid  that  il  he  went  on  speaking  he  wouldn't 
live  a  minute." 

Jane  started,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands,  as  if  by  so  doing  she  could  shut 
out  all  perception  of  the  dreadful  image 
which  Peter  Bayley  brought  before  her 
mind's  eye. 

Bayley  saw  the  effect  he  was  producing, 
and  he  coiiliimed — 

"  But  ho  would  speak,  for  all  that,  though 
he  was  half  choked  each  time  that  he  tried. 
He  would  speak.  I  suppose,  because  it  was 
of  you  he  wished  to  speak  before  he  died." 

"  False  !— false  !" 

*'  As  you  please,"  said  Bayley,  biting  his 
lips.  "  You  can  believe  it,  or  not,  as  you 
like.  In  the  result  it  matters  not  one  straw 
to  me.  I  will  tell  j-ou,  partly,  because-  it  is 
for  your  own  good,  and  partly  that  I  prom- 
ised him  at  his  lust  gasp  that  I  would  do  so, 
and  I  am  a  m;in  of  ray  word." 

"  If  he  be  dead,  you  killed  him." 

"  No,  Jane  ;  there  you  do  me  an  injustice. 
The  fact  is,  I  tried  to  save  him." 

-'You?" 

"  Yes,  you  doubt  it ;  but  you  will  believe 
vcc  when  I  tell  you  that  it  was  not  from  any 
affection  to  him,  or  from  any  feeling  of  hu- 
manity, but  ju.st  because  his  life  would  have 
answered  some  of  my  purposes  better  than 
'lis  death.' 

"  Go  on — go  on.  Tell  me  all." 
"  I  will."  added  the  wily  thief-taker. 
"  Finding  at  his  last  moments  that  I  pitied 
him,  he  said,  '  If  you  should  find  Jane,  tell 
her  it  was  my  last  request  that  she  no  longer 
endangers  her  peace  and  safety  from  any  fan- 
cied expccbition  that  she  will  benefit  herself 
by  keeping  the  secret  of  where  the  cedar-box 
is  hidden — tell  her  to  give  it  up,  and  then  to 
leave  England,  and  try  to  seek  a  home  and  • 
subsistence  in  some  foreign  land  ?'  " 

"  I  told  him  that  if  it  were  any  consola- 


tion to  him  in  his  last  moments  to  know  aa 
much,  that  you  were  in  my  custody,  and  that 
I  would  faithfully  report  his  words  to  you, 
and  1  told  him  further  that  I  would  give  you 
a  hundred  pounds  to  expedite  your  journey 
from  England,  so  that  you  should  not  bej, 
rust  upon  a  foreign  shore  in  a  state  of  desti- 
tution.    As  I  told  him  this,  he  died." 

Jane  w_as  like  one  stunned.  I'he  thief-ta 
ker  observed  her  with  a  triumphant  smile. 

"Think  the  matter  over,"  he  said,  "I 
will  come  back  to  you  in  an  hour,  and  by 
then  you  had  better  be  ready  to  give  me  an 
answer." 

With  these  words,  Bayley  left  the  cell,  and 
Jane  heard  the  harsh  grating  sound  of  the 
locks  that  he  closed  after  him  as  he  repaired 
to  the  more  habitible  portion  of  his  house. 

"  It  is  not  true  !"  she  said.  "  The  hollow 
deception  spoke  its  own  worthlessncss  in  ev- 
ery word  bettered.  It  is  not  true  1  Fred 
lives  jet !  He  is  not  dead  I  But  what  will 
become  of  me  ?  I  am  here  friendless  and 
alone,  and  threatened  with  death..  Oh, 
Heaven,  have  mercy  upon  me,  and  spare  me 
from  death  in  this  frightful  place  !" 

A  slight  tapping  noise  against  the  wall  of 
the  cell  at  this  moment  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  Jane,  and  she  held  her  hand  to  her 
ear  to  listen  to  the  sound.  It  came  again, 
and  more  distinctly  than  before. 

"What  can  it  be?"  she  said.  "  Oh,  what 
can  it  be  ?  Is  it  some  new  horror  that  Bay- 
ley  is  preparing  for  me  in  this  ))lace  ?" 

She  scarcely  dared  to  utter  these  words, 
even  in  a  whisper,  to  her  own  heart,  so  terri- 
fied was  she  each  moment  becoming,  for  the 
tapping  sound  rather  increased  than  dimin- 
ished. 

Sudflenly,  there  was  a  rustling  sound  like 
the  fall  of  a  quantity  of  loose  earth  and  rub- 
bish, and  then  Jane  was  startled  by  the  glare 
of  a  light,  and  looking  up,  she  saw  a  hand 
passed  through  a  hole  in  the  wall,  and  hold- 
ing a  little  bit  of  wax  taper  in  it,  which 
burnt  dimly  in  that  wretched  atmosphere. 

"  Help  ! — oh,  help  !"  cried  Jane.  "  What 
is  this  ?     Oh,  have  mercy  upon  me  !" 

"  What's  the  row  ?"  said  a  voice.  "  Don't 
be  bellering  out  in  that  way,  my  dear.  I 
suppose  you  are  the  little  pretty  girl  who 
they  want  to  get  rid.     Is  your  name  Jane?" 

"  It  is — it  is." 

"  And  did  you  live  in  the  old  conjuring 
crib  along  of  Lolanti  ?" 

"  Yes—  oh,  yes." 

"  And  Fearless  Fred  is  yoor  fancy,  ain't 
he?" 

"  Fearless  Fred  ?  Oh,  tell  me  what  yon 
can  if  him,  and  I  will  thank  you  with  all  ray 


100 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


heart.  Tell  me  that  be  is  not  dead,  and  I 
will  bless  yon  1" 

"  Dead  ?     Who  said  he  \^aa  ?" 

"  Bayley." 

"Stulf!  he's  DO  more  dead  than  1  am. — 
He's  worth  a  precious  lot  of  dead  'uns  yet, 
I'll  be  bound." 

Jane  burst  into  tears,  and  she  wept  with 
y)y,  as  she  cried — 

"  He  lives  I  he  lives  1  All  is  well  yet,  for 
ny  Fred  lives !" 

"  Go  it,"  said  the  voice.  "  You  keep  up 
Ihat  roaring  while  I  set  to  work  again.  But 
t  say,  Miss  Jane,  couldn't  you  hold  this  lit- 
tle bit  of  a  light,  and  cry  at  the  same  time? 
It  would  help  me,  and  I  don't  think  it  would 
be  any  hindrance  to  you — only  don't  be  cry- 
ing into  the  snuff  of  the  candle,  for,  so  sure 
as  you  do,  you'll  put  it  out." 

"  But  who  are  you?"  ^ 

"Nibbling  Joe." 

«  Who  do  you  say  ?" 

"  Nibbling  Joe,  my  dear.  Lor  bless  yon, 
did  you  never  hear  of  me  ?  Well,  this  is 
prime,  arter  all !  Why,  my  dear,  I'm  the 
most  out-and-out  chap  at  grabbing  a  wipe — 
fumbling  for  a  quid,  or  playing  the  double 
with  a  ticker,  or  coming  any  dodge  ai  you 
can  name,  as  never  was :  and  you  never 
heerd  of  me  ?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Nibble,  I  never,  indeed,  heard 
of  you." 

"  Well,  that's  a  rum  un.  Why,  my  dear, 
they  calls  me  Nibbling  Joe  on  account  of 
my  professional  pursuit,  in  a  way  of  speak- 
ing, you  know.  But  hold  the  light  a  little 
higher,  and  I'll  soon  have  down  some  of  old 
Peter's  wall  here,  and  then  we  will  see  if  w^ 
can't  give  him  the  go-by." 

"  Oh,  is  there  any  hope  ?" 

"  Well,  I  own  Peter  holds  rather  hard 
when  he  gets  his  hand  on  a  fellow,  but  I 
mean  to  try  it,  and  no  mistake.  Keep  out 
of  the  way,  Jane,  for  I  am  going  to  push 
through  a  bit  of  the  wall  on  that  side.  Now 
for  it.  There  you  go,  and  here  am  I  all 
right.  I  look  upon  this  as  half-way  to  get- 
ting the  better  of  old  Peter." 

A  mass  of  about  two  feet  square  of  the 
wall  was  now  broken  down,  and  Nibbling 
Joe,  who  was  one  of  the  most  famous  pick- 
pockets of  that  time,  crawled  into  the  cell  in 
the  occupation  of  Jane.  The  young  girl 
held  *he  light  in  her  trembling  grasp,  and  she 
saw  a  rather  pleasing  but  effeminate  person- 
age in  Nibbling  Joe,  who,  shaking  the  dust 
and  mortar  of  the  wall  from  his  apparel, 
looked  rather  earnestly  at  her. 

**  And  so,"  he  said,  "  that  rascal  Peter 


has  had  the  villany  to  shut  you  up  here  jasi 
to  plea«e  the  Earl  of  Broughton  ?" 

"  The  Earl  of  Broughton  I"  said  Jane. — 
"  Is  that  the  name  of  my  persecutor  V 

"  Yes,  and  a  plague  to  the  name,  I  say, 
for  it  was  that  name,  and  nothing  else  in  th< 
world,  that  brought  me  in  one  of  these  cells." 

"  But  are  you  sure  of  the  indentity  of  such 
a  nobleman  with  the  man  who  has  been  my 
foe  ?" 

"  Quite.  He  fe  tall,  and  rather  stout,  with 
a  full  complexion,  and  thick  lips,  gray  eye?», 
and  partially  bald  ?" 

"  Y  es — yes.  The  same.  But  how  could 
it  concern  you  ?" 

"  Just  because  I  was  foolish  enough  to  in- 
terfere in  other  folks'  affairs.  I  saw  him 
come  to  Bayley  and  T  knew  him,  and  by 
putting  one  circumstance  to  another,  I  found 
out  that  he  was  Bayley's  employer  about 
you,  and  I  thought  it  a  sad  thing  that  a 
young  creature  such  as  you  are.  should  be- 
sacriiiced  to  a  rascal  like  that,  and  I  foolish- 
ly said  as  much  to  Bayley,  and  uttered 
Bro'aghton's  name,  when  he  agreed  with  n\<- 
— or  rather,  I  should  say,  pretended  to  do 
so.  '  Come,  Joe,'  he  said, '  let  you  and  1  go 
and  speak  to  the  girl,  and  if  we  find  her  wil- 
ling to  be  gracious  to  the  earl,  we  can  let  ho 
go  and  baulk  him.'  Well,  my  dear,  I  cam-i 
with  Peter  here  like  an  ass  as  I  was,  for  i 
ought  to  have  mistrusted  that  devil,  ami 
opening  the  cell  next  to  here,  he  said, '  Hert' 
she  is.  Walk  in,  Joe,  ray  boy,'  and  in  I  walk- 
ed, when  Bayley  slammed  the  door  shut,  an  I 
locked,  and  barred  it  up  in  a  moment." 

"  What  treachery  1" 

"  Rather.  He  then  looked  in  at  im 
through  a  small  crevice  at  the  top  of  thf 
door,  and  in  his  pro\oking  way,  he  said— 
'  My  dear  fellow,  you  know  too  much,  Joe 
so  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  remain  hero 
till  you  forget.'  So  saying,  he  left  me,  fully 
intending,  no  doubt,  to  leave  me  to  starve  ii,- 
this  place ;  for,  if  report  among  the  family 
speaks  truly,  he  has  served  several  others  in 
the  same  way.  But  owing  to  the  way  in 
which  he  had  to  manage  the  affair,  you  see, 
he  had  not  been  able  to  deprive  me  of  vari* 
ous  things  I  had  about  me,  and  by  good  luck 
I  had  the  means  of  getting  a  light — some 
skeleton  keys — a  good  knife,  and  other  little 
matters,  all  of  which  have  been  the  means 
of  saving  me,  I  think  ;  and  so,  you  see.  Miss 
Jane,  here  I  am,  and  I  hoy)e  yet  to  be  one 
too  many,  with  your  help,  for  old  Peter."   . 

"  But,"  said  Jane,  "  how  have  you  better- 
ed your  condition  by  coming  into  this  cell  ?" 

"  Just  this  way.    The  one  adjoining  hai 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


lOi 


an  iron  bar  np  across  the  door  on  the  out- 
side, and  that  was  too  mnch  for  me  in  a  lit- 
tle space  of  time  to  get  rid  of.  This  door  is 
only  locked,  as  I  well  know,  for  I  heard  Bay- 
ley  fasten  it.  Of  course,  he  knew  a  lock 
would  keep  you  all  secure,  but  he  had  his 
'loubls  of  me." 

"  Ah,  1  understand  now." 

"  In  course  you  do.  And  now  hold  the 
light  still,  and  we  shall  soon  be  able,  I  rath- 
er think,  to  give  a  good  account  of  Peter 
Hayley's  lock.     Now,  here  you  are." 

Click !  went  the  lock,  and  in  another  mo-  j 
meut  the  door  swung  open.  Nibbling  Joe 
stepped  out  of  the  cell.  Jane  followed  him, ' 
and  ran  her  eyes  along  the  passage.  Sud- 
denly slie  seized  the  arm  of  Nibbling  Joe, ! 
and  in  a  convulsive  wliisper,  said —  I 

"  A  light.  It  is  coming.  A  light —  i 
look  1"  ! 

Joe  in  a  moment  dashed  his  hand  on  the ' 
light  that  Jane  carried,  and  put  it  out,  and 
then  they  could  see  a  broad,  though  sickly 
reflection  of  a  light  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
narrow  passage,  and  it  was  quite  clear  that 
Monie  one  was  very  slowly  advancing  from  j 
the  end  of  it  next  the  staircase.  1 

"The  devil!"  said  Nibbling  Joe. —  ] 
"  Come  back  into  the  cell,  it's  the  safest  1 
place — the  door  is  open,  and  we  can  easily  j 
watch  who  is  coming."  t 

They  crept  slowly  backwards,  but  as  they  ! 
did  so,  the  mysterious  light  came  on.  I 

"  Stop,"  whispered  Joe,  as  he  found  they 
had  got  back  to  the  door  of  the  cell,  against 
which  he  struck  his  hand.  "  Hush  I  Not 
a   word."  I 

The  figure  bearing  the  light  turned  the  i 
corner  of  the  passage,  and  then  Jane  saw 
that  it  was  her  old  enemy,  Mrs.  Popham,  j 
with  a  light  in  one  hand,  and  a  long  glitter- 1 
ing  knife  in  the  other.  The  slow  progress  \ 
that  she  made  arose  evidently  from  the  fact  j 
that  she  was  only  just  able  to  walk  from  in-  [ 
toxication. 

Poor  Jane  clung  to  the  arms  of  Nibbling  | 
Joe,  for  she  felt  that  at  that  awful  hour  it 
was  something  to  have  even  such  a  man  as 
that  to  stand  by  her  in  a  moment  of  dan- 
ger. 

"  Oh,  God,"  she  whispered,  '•  she  comes,  a-s 
she  came  bofore,  to  take  my  life.     You  will 
protect  me?     Oh,  say  you  will  1" 
"  Why,  it's  Popham  !" 
*  Oh,  save  me  I  save  me !" 
"  Hush  I     Don't  you  put  yourself  out  of 
the  way.    Don't  you  see  what  a  sweet  con- 
dition she  is  in.    Lor  bless    you,  a  little 
teach  will  send  her  over,  and  I'll   warrant 


that  if  she  once  loses  her  feet,  the  old  gin 
won't  get  up  again  in  a  hnrry." 

Mrs.  Popham  had  just  sense  enough  left 
to  pause  at  the  door  of  the  cell  thai  .she  knew 
Jane  had  been  imprisoned  in,  but  s!ie  was  too 
far  gone  in  intoxication  to  feel  any  surprise  a' 
finding  that  it  was  half  open  when  it  should 
have  been  locked. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  I'll  have  her  now.  I'H 
cut  her  throat,  that's  the  way  to  settle  her, 
and  then  one  is  sure — quite  sure  that  it's  all 
right.  It's  a  lucky  thing  that  I  have  a  mas- 
ter-key as  well  as  Peter.  He — ho  don't  know 
that.     Ha  1  I'll  cut  her  throat !" 

Mrs.  Popham  laid  hold  of  the  door,  but  in 
doing  so,  she  dropped  the  knife,  so  she  let  go 
of  the  door  again  to  pick  that  up,  a;id  in  the 
ettbrt  to  do  so  she  fell  on  her  nose,  and  nearly 
smashed  the  lantern  she  had  with  her. 

"Miss  Jane,"  said  Nibbling  Joe,  "come 
this  way,  and  don't  be  afraid — let  us  get  in- 
to the  next  cell  ;  I  rather  think  it  will  bother 
old  mother  Popham  to  get  alter  us  there." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  a  thousand  thanks.  Let  us  go 
at  once." 

They  crept  through  the  hole  in  the  wall 
into  Nibbling  Joe's  old  lodging  place  ;  and 
then,  by  kneeling  on  the  floor,  they  could  see 
the  proceedings  of  Mrs.  Popham. 

After  much  tumbling  about,  that  lady  ha<i 
managed  to  get  upon  her  feet  again,  aiid 
without  extinguishing  her  light  either,  and 
pushing  the  door  of  the  cell  wide  open  she 
staggered  into  it,  and  balancing  hers«jlf  as 
well  as  she  could  upon  her  unsteady  feet,  she 
held  up  the  light  and  glared  around  her. 

"  Now,  my  little  beauty,"  she  said,  "  we 
will  soon  see  if  a  knife  won't  alter  your  looks 
a  little.  So,  nothing  would  serve  you  but 
you  must  try  to  wheedle  my  Peter  into  ma 
king  love  to  your  baby-face — Eh  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  good,"  whispered  Nibbling 
Joe.  "  Hark !  she  will  find  out  that  you  are 
gone  soon." 

"  Come — come,"  added  Mrs.  Popham,  a» 

by  staggering  about  with  the  light,  and  mar 

king  her  own  shadow  dance  along  the  walls 

of  the  cell,  she,  in  the  state  of  intoxication 

she  was  in,  fancied  she  was  pursuing  Jane. 

"  It's  no  use  of  getting  out  of  the  way.     I  ■ 

will  have  you,  and  no  mistake.   You  brought 

yourself  here  just  to  try  your  smiles  and  your 

I  simpers,  and  your  giggling,  with  Peter,  and 

get  me  turned  off ;  but  I'll  let  you  know  who, 

I  am,  and  oft"  comes  your  head  as  soon  as  1 

j  get  hold  of  you.     Take  that !"  ,\1  rs.  Popham 

I  made  a  thrust  at  her  own  shadow,  and  with 

I  such  force  that  she  lost  her  balance  and  fell 

I  headlong,  her  bead  striking  heavily  against 


102 


FEARLESS  FKED. 


the  wall  in  her  fiill.  The  miserable  hag  was 
stanned.  On  discovering  this  fact,  Nibbling 
Joe  crept  into  the  cell,  and  turning  the  body 
around,  he  coolly  pin  tiered  his  hand  into  the 
old  woman's  side  pocket,  with  the  observa- 
tion : 

"  You  are  a  nice  beauty,  you  are !  ni 
just  relieve  you  of  the  master-key  you  spoke 
of!     Ah,  here  it  is!" 

"  Have  you  got  it  ?"  asked  Jane,  with 
breathless  interest. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nibbling  Joe.  "  And  now 
let's  be  off.     Creep  through  the  hole." 

As  Jane  was  about  to  comply,  there  was 
a  sound  of  voice?  in  th.'  passage.  Nibbling 
Joe  cautiously  looked  out  and  beheld,  to  his 
surprise..  Peter  Baylcy  approaching  accom- 
panied by  the  Earl  of  Broughton. 

"Back!  back!"  whispered  Joe,  "  Bayley 
•ind  the  earl  are  coming  !" 

He  dragged  the  inanimate  body  of  Mrs.'t 
Pophara  towards  the  opening  in  the  wall, 
»Dd  then  he  got  backwards  in  to  the  inner 
cell,  then  clutching  Mrs.  Popham  by  the  back 
of  the  neck,  he  held  her  up  in  a  sitting  pos- 
ture so  that  she  quite  hid  the  circular  orifice 
he  had  made  in  the  wall. 

"  Hark  !"  cried  Joe.     '•  They  are  here !" 

A  flash  of  taint,  weak  light  now  came  into 
the  cell. 

At  the  sight  of  this  faint  and  uncertain 
light,  Jane  was  silent.  She  felt  that  some 
dreadful  crisis  in  her  destiny  had  arrived, 
and  she  dreaded  to  picture  to  herself  what  it 
might  end  in. 

The  silence  that  ensued  had  something 
very  awful  in  it,  but  it  was  a  silence  that 
did  not  last  long,  for  Bayley  broke  it  by 
raising  a  shout  of  dismay  as  he  cried — 

''  Why,  the  cell  is  open  I" 

"  Open  !"  said  another  voice  which  the 
two  parties  in  the  adjoining  cell  recognized 
as  that  of  the  Earl  of  Broughton.  "  Then 
she  has  escap-i'd  us  at  last." 

"  No — no,  impossible." 

"  The  lisrht — give  me  the  light,  my  lord," 
cried  Bayley,  "  and  let  me  look  into  the  cell." 

The  light  was  but  a  poor,  weak  one  at  the 
best,  and  in  the  damp  bad  air  of  those  cells 
and  passages  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  it  burnt  so  dimly  that  it  only  gave  a 
faint,  uncertain  kind  of  glimmer.  Bayley 
stepped  within  the  cell  and  held  the  light 
above  his  head.  The  feei)le  r,ay3  fell  upon  the 
ibrm  of  Mrs.  Popham,  as  she  was  held  up 
against  the  wall  by  the  firni  grasp  that  Joe 
fiad  of  the  back  of  her  neck. 

"  She  is  there !"  shouted  Bayley,  without 
troubling  himself  to  cast  a  second  glance  up- 
00  the  figure.    "  ITa !  ha !  she  is  tl^re." 


"  But  how  came  the  cell-dooy  open  T" 

"  I  know  not.  It  don't  maiter,  though, 
my  lord.  It  is  possible  that  I  left  it  so 
from  carelessness,  although  I  don't  usuallj 
do  such  things  ;  but  even  if  [  did,  she  could 
not  have  left  this  place,  although  she  might 
have  roamed  about  these  passages.  The  pro- 
bability is  that  she  has  done  so,  and  has  re- 
turned at  last,  hopeles.s!y,  to  the  cell  again. 

"  It  may  be  so,"  .said  the  earl  faintly. 

"  Are  you  sure  she  is  there?" 

"  Yes,  I  saw  her.  I  will  spcuk  to  her.— 
Jane,  Jane,  I  say  !" 

"  Answer  him,"  whispered  Joe  ;  "  place 
your  mouth  close  to  this  little  opening  intlio 
wall  and  answer  him.  There  is  a  crevicx- 
left  by  the  side  of  mother  Pophani's  head. 
If  they  hear  your  voice  they  wiU  be  satis- 
fied." 

Jane  mechanically  obeyed  the  direction? 
of  Joe,  but  before  she  could  speak,  Bayle^ 
called  out  again,  as  he  advanced  a  couple  0/ 
steps  into  the  cell — 

"  Speak  girl,  if  you  are  there?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Bayley,  I  am  here,"  saiJ 
Jane. 

"She  speaks.  Are  you  satisfied  m\ 
lord  ?" 

"  I  am — I  am  ;  and  now — " 

"  No — not  yet.  I  have  a  question  to  ask 
of  her.  I  fancied  that  it  should  beyeta-skcd 
again,  and  it  may  yet  save  her  life.  -^ane. 
listen  to  me.     Do  you  hear  me,  girl  ?" 

"I  do,"  said  Jane. 

Then  you  recollect  that  I  promised  to 
come  to  you  again  for  an  answer  to  my  prc)- 
posal  ?" 

"  I  do." 

"  I  promised  to  save  you  from  death,  and 
even  to  give  you  your  liberty,  as  well  as  life, 
if  you  would  disclose  where  the  cedar-box 
was." 

«  You  did." 

"  Well,  I  will  keep  my  word  with  you, 
girl.  Tell  me,  now,  where  it  is,  and  iu  one 
hour  more  you  shall  be  free.  Fearless  Fred 
is  food  for  worms,  now,  and  if,  upon  his  ac- 
count, you  persist  in  your  obstinate  silenc* 
respecting  the  place  of  concealn)ent  of  the 
cedar-box,  you  are  mad." 

'•  Oh,  no — no." 

"  What  is  it  she  says  no  to  ?"  eaid  the 
earl. 

"  Do  you  doubt  the  fact  of  the  death  of 
Fred,  still  ?"  said  Peter  Bayley. 

Jane  was  silent. 

"  Say  yes,"  whispered  Joe. 

"Yes — I  do  doubt  it,"  said  Jane.  '^  I 
cannot  asd  will  not  believe  it." 

"  But,"  said  the  earl,  suddenly,  "life  to  s 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


108 


young  ^rl  Ifke  yoi,  enrely,  cannot  be  a  pos- 
lession  destitute  of  all  charms.  You  surely 
wish  to  live,  do  you  not?"  It  cannot  be 
that  for  the  sake  of  keeping  back  a  piece  of 
Information  which  cannot  affect  you  to  give, 
7on  will  meet  death  itself  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  are  my  old  enemy,"  said  Jane. 
'  i  know  you  now.  You  are  the  Earl  of 
Broughton." 

'•  Fool !"  said  Bayley.  "  You  have  sen- 
t<^nc('d  yourself,  now  to  death." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  earl.  "  Let  her  still 
U'll  me  where  the  cedar-box  is,  and  I  will 
consent  to  her  being  released.  Nay,  more, 
F  will  give  her  a  sum  of  money  with  which 
she  Ciin  leave  England,  and  live  in  peace  and 
comfort.     What  say  you,  Jane?" 

"  No — no,"  said  Jane. 

"  Then  you  not  only  doom  yourself  to 
death,  'out  another  whom  I  luive  the  power 
to  murder  or  to  save.  That  other,  foolish 
girl,  is  Fearless  Fred. 

"  Then  he  lives  !" 

'•  He  does." 

"  I'lease  yourself,  my  lord,"  said  Bayley, 
UittcM'Iy.  "  If  you  think  you  can  manage 
this  ai.air  in  your  own  way  better  than  I 
c-.in  do  so,  T  will  leave  you  here  alone,  if 
you  li;<e,  with  her.  Don't  let  me  be  any  hin- 
derance  to  you.  You  come  here,  and  you  at 
once  contradict  what  I  say  of  you,  and  of 
otiuT-',  and  so  you  upset  all  my  plans." 

"  !>t>  p.aticint,  Bayley.  When  one  combi- 
nation Fails  we  must  just  try  another,  that  is 

"As  you  pkase." 

"  Rut  listen  to  reason,  Bayley.  You  are 
well  paid,  and  you  have  no  cause  to  complain 
of  niP  concerning  other  combinations  and 
pl(  ts  ur^  they  proceed.  Let  me  try  her  upon 
!his  point,  and  it  may  yet  succeed. 

"  \V(  11 — well,  my  lord,  you  may  do  as  you 
please,  of  course.  I  am  your  humble  ser- 
vant." 

"  Jane,"  said  the  carl,  "listen  to  me.  You 
•ever  believed  that  Fearless  Fred,  in  whose 
fate  you  are  so  deeply  interested,  was  dead. — 
Well",  you  were  right — he  is  not  dead  ;  but 
he  now  lies  under  sentence  of  death  in  New- 
gate, and  I  alone  can  save  him.  My  rank 
gives  me  ready  access  to  the  ear  of  royalty, 
and  a  word  from  me  would  save  his  life.  1 
will  spciik  that  word  if  you  will  tell  me 
where  the  cedar-box  is  to  be  found,  with  its 
contents." 

"  No,"  said  Jane. 

"Rash  girl,  you  know  not  what  you  say. 
Nay,  you  disbelieve  even  this  last  statement, 
I  suppose ;  but  if  you  do  so,  and  carry  that 
diflbelief  too  far,  it  will  have,  the  effed    f 


destroying  the  very  person,  of  all  othera, 
whom  you  wish  to  save  and  to  serve." 

"  I  cannot  trust  the  word  of  oue  so  false  aa 
you  are,"  said  Jane. 

"  Then  you  die !  Unhappy  girl,  you  con*> 
mit  suicide  by  this  foolish  and  criminal  ob- 
stinacy as  much  as  if  you  raised  your  hand 
against  your  own  life  ;  and  you  commit  muiv 
der,  too." 

"  That's  a  bouncer  I"  said  Joe. 

"  Yes,  murder,  you  commit ;  for  you  de« 
stroy  Fearless  Fred — you  are  his  hangman 
as  much  as  if  you,  yourself,  put  the  rope  »■ 
bout  his  neck." 

"  That's  not  so  badly  put,"  said  Bayley. 

"  And,"  added  the  earl,  "  it  ought  to  be 
quite  clear  to  such  a  capacity  as  yours,  that 
such  is  the  fact.  What  are  the  contents  of 
a  little  bo.\  to  two  such  lives  ?  What  do  yon 
e-xjiect  from  those  contents  ?" 

"  What  do  you  ?"  said  Jane. 

"  That  is  my  affair.  I  am  not  in  such  an 
e.x'tremity  as  you  are,  girl,  or  I  would  not 
play  with  my  life  as  you  do.  My  age  is 
three  times  yours  ;  but  yet  I  would  not  cast 
my  life  from  me  with  such  a  reckless  hand  ; 
and  if  there  were,  in  all  the  world,  one  whom 
I  loved,  which  I  grant  there  is  not,  I  would 
not  murder  that  one  as  you  would  marder 
Fearless  Fred." 

"  Good  again,"  said  Bayley. 

"  I  pause  for  your  answer,  girl,"  added  the 
earl. 

''  You  have  had  it." 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  still  perao- 
vere  ?" 

"  Yes,  Lord  Broughton,  I  persevere  bo- 
cause  I  feel  that  the  min  who  would  come 
with  such  threats  as  you  have  come  with, 
would  not  scruple  when  he  got  the  informa- 
tion he  wanted  to  break  his  word." 

"  I  will  swear  to  you — " 

"  Oh,  no — no,  my  lord  !  Let  ITeaven  Sp 
lone.  Do  not  add,  I  pray  you,  to  your  mon- 
strous load  of  guilt  the  horrible  impiety  of 
calling  Heaven  to  witness  your  acts.  Swear 
not,  my  lord." 

"  She  is  mad,"  said  the  earl. 

"  Now,  my  private  opinion,  my  lord,  is," 
said  Peter,  "  that  if  you  were  to  speak  for  a 
month,  you  would  not  move  her  resolution. 
She  is  rather  obstinate." 

"  Then  I  will  let  her  know  that  I  am  ob- 
Stinate." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  it  is  in  the  family — "' 

'  Hush  1  What  would  you  suy,  Bayley  I 
Do  not  breath  that  secret  for  a  moment 
And  now  you — you  may  earn  your  fee." 

'  My  fee  ?" 
^es.    \)o  the  deed.    I  will — will  wall 


104 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


here,  Peter  Bayley,  until  yen  do  the  deed,  for 
live  she  must  not — I  tell  you,  live  she  must 
not." 

"  No,  my  lord.    I  will  not  do  the  deed." 

«  You  will  not  ?" 

"  Those  were  my  words.  You  start,  and, 
DO  doubt,  you  are  amazed  to  find  that  it  is 
possible,  that  I,  Peter  Bayley,  can  stop  short 
at  any  villany  ;  but — but—" 

"  But  what  ?" 

« 1  cannot  kill  that  girl." 

"  You  cannot  kill  her  ?    What  can  I  do  7" 

"  Kill  her  yourself,  my  lord,  if  you  like, 
I  tell  you  I  cannot  do  it.  Come  a  little  fur- 
ther off  and  I  will  tell  j'ou  how  to  manage. 
You  have  fire-arms  with  you,  have  you 
not?" 

.<  Why,— a— a^" 

"  Yes,  of  course,  yon  would  not  come  here 
unarmed  to  see  your  dear  friend,  Peter  Bay- 
ley.  Well — well,  let  that  pass — it  don't 
matter  a  jot.  I  don't  want  you  to  trust  me. 
But  I  say  I  will  leave  you  here,  and  you  can 
do  the  deed  yourself,  for  I  will  not  do  it. 
You  know  the  way  out,  and  you  will  find  me 
in  my  room.  Your  best  plan  is  to  shoot  her 
as  she  kneels,  for  I  think  she  is  kneeling  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  cell." 

"  But,  Bayley,  I—" 

"  It  is  of  no  use,  my  lord.  I  will  not  do 
it ;  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  leave  it  alone, 
and  come  away  at  once." 

"  But  I  have  already  handed  you  a  thou- 
sand pounds." 

"  Yes  ;  and  little  enough,  too." 

"  This  is  not  the  sortof  dealing  I  expected 
from  you,  Peter  Bayley.  You  have  broken 
feith  with  me.  But  the  death  of  that  girl, 
now  that  she  knows  me,  is  too  important  a 
thing  for  me  to  shrink  from  ;  and  if  you  won't 
do  it,  why — I — I — must." 

"  There  is  no  must  in  the  case,  my  lord." 

"  There  is.  All  I  ask  of  you  now  is  to 
keep  the  secret,  and  take  care  that  no  vestige 
of  the  crime  remains.  I  will  do  it — I  will 
ghoot  her  !  I  could  not  bear  to  look  closely 
at  her.     I  will  fire  at  her  from  the  door." 

"  Take  your  own  course,  my  lord  ;  it  is 
not  for  me  to  aid  you  now,  or  to  baalk  you." 
Bayley  stepped  aside,  and  the  earl  ap- 
proached the  door  of  the  cell.  He  put  his 
right  foot  and  his  right  hand — that  hand  that 
carried  the  pistol — within  the  cell,  and  then 
he  held  up  the  weapon,  and  pointed  towards 
the  figure  that  be  dimly  saw,  and  fired. 

The  report  of  the  pistol  was  quite  stun- 
ning in  that  place,  small  as  it  was,  and  it  so 
startled  Jane,  that  she  uttered  a  piercing 
shriek.  As  for  Mrs.  Popham,  she  fell  for- 
P»rd  on  her  face,  and  never  spoke  again  — 


The  bullet  had  ectercd  her  brain,  and  killed 
her  at  once  upon  the  spot. 

"  It  is  done !,'  cried  the  earl.  "  Oh,  God, 
it  is  done !" 

"  It  is,"  said  Bayley. 

"  You  hojurd  her  shriek  ?" 

"  Yes.  There  could  be  n.>  mistake  aboo) 
that.  I  hope,  my  lord,  you  arc  now  satisfi- 
ed. You  have  done  the  deed,  and  Jaj^e  ii 
no  more.  That  death  shriek  of  her's  wiU 
I  fear,  ring  in  my  ears  for  some  time." 

"  And  in  mine — in  mine  !"' 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  that,  ray  lord,'' 
said  Bayley,  coolly.  "  But  it  is  done  now, 
and  cannot  be  undone.  Think  no  more  of 
it.  There  is  no  occasion,  now,  to  make  the 
door  of  the  cell  fast.  There  is  no  living 
soul  to  pass  out  of  it.  I  don't  know  how  it 
is,  but  I  have  never  felt  quite  the  same  man 
that  I  was  since  I  saw  Lolanti  in  the  lane 
standing  by  the  old  gate,  and  beckoning  to 
me,  when  I  knew  that  half  his  head  was  off". 
I  feel  half  inclined,  a*  times,  to  go  into  the 
country,  and  live  like  a  private  gentleman." 

Bayley  uttered  this  reflection  in  too  low  a 
tone  for  the  earl  to  hear,  for  lie  was  hurrying 
along  the  narrow  passage  leailnig  I'rnni  the 
cells  at  the  same  time  ;  and,  to  toll  the  truth, 
the  Earl  of  Broughton  was  too  much  occu- 
pied by  his  own  reflections  to  li.-tcn  now  to 
what  Bayley  was  saying,  if  the  words  were 
not  pointedly  and  specially  addressed  to 
kim. 

The  hell  of  remorse  had  already  commen- 
ced in  the  heart  of  the  murderer  ! 

Bayley  led  the  way  to  the  private  room  in 
which  he  always  held  his  guilty  and  confi- 
dential conferences  ;  and  when  there,  he  wont 
direct  to  a  cupboard,  and  indulged  himself 
with  a  bumper  of  brandy. 

"  Is  that  wine  ?"  said  the  earl. 

"  Something  better,  my  lord.  Wine  won't 
do  for  us,  now.  We  require  a  more  potent 
spirit  to  drive  out  the  demons  of  tlioughl 
that  at  times  will  take  possession  of  us.  It 
is  brandy." 

"  Give  me  some." 

Bayley  handed  him  a  cup  nearly  full,  and 
to  his  surprise,  the  earl  drank  the  whole  of 
it ;  and  then,  sinking  into  a  chair,  he  said — 

"  I  am  better,  now.  That  has  revived  me 
somewhat.    It  was  a  dreadful  scene,  Bayley." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more 
about  that ;  and  now,  my  lord,  we  have  our 
accounts  to  settle." 

"  Accounts  ?  What  mean  you  ?  I  paid 
you  the  thousand  pounds." 

"  You  did,  my  lord.  You  paid  the  money 
like  a  trump ;  but  do  yon  know  (vhat  von 
paid  it  for  ?" 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


19f 


"  Ye8,  rarely — for — for  this  affair." 

"  You  paid  it  for  leave  to  murder  Jane, 
end  you  have  murdered  her  accordingly. — 
What  I  want  to  know  now  is,  how  much  are 
you  going  to  give  for  my  keeping  the  se- 
cret ?" 

"  The  secret  T" 

"  Yes,  the  secret.  You  wouldn't  like  me 
to  talk  of  it,  I  suppose?" 

"  Oh,  God,  no !" 

"  Very  good,  then.  What  are  you  going 
to  give  me  for  keeping  the  secret?" 

"  Buyley,  you  are  a  villain  !" 

"  I  know  it.  There  are  a  couple  of  us  in 
the  room  at  this  present  time,  my  lord  ;  and 
if  the  devil  were  to  toss  for  us,  he  wouldn't 
much  care  wliich  he  won,  I  rather  think." 

'•  1  do  not  like  these  ribald  jests,  Bayley." 

"  Very  good,  my  lord  ;  and  so  to  business 
once  again.  What  do  you  mean  to  give  me 
lor  keeping  the  secret  ?" 

"  Peter  Bayley,  I  see  very  well  that  you 
have  got  the  advantage  of  me  in  this  matter  ; 
and  tiiat  you  will  use  it  to  extort  money 
from  me.  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  help  my- 
eelf.  I  think  I  have  paid  you  liberally 
enough  ;  but  as  you  will  have  more,  I  beg 
that  you  will  be  considerate  in  your  demands, 
for  I  have  no  great  command,  just  now,  of 
money." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Bayley.  "  I  tell  you 
what  I  will  do.  When  I  want  a  few  hun- 
dreds I  will  come  to  you." 

"  Hundreds  1" 

"  Yes  ;  I  would  not,  with  a  nobleman,  de- 
mean myself  by  asking  for  smaller  sums. — 
Yo>ir  lordship  will  be  sure  to  hear  of  me." 

The  earl  rose. 

"  Of  that,"  he  said,  sadly,  "  I  now  make 
DO  doubt.  A  connexion  with  such  a  man  as 
you  are  is  only  to  be  severed  by  death.  I 
leave  you  now,  Bayley,  and  only  hope " 

"  What,  my  lord  ?" 

"  That  you  will  come  to  me  as  seldom  as 
possible,  for  the  sight  of  you  will  recall  the 
recollection  of  scenes  and  transactions  enough 
to  blast  my  peace  for  ever  and  ever." 

"  No.  The  sight  of  me  will  have  no  such 
effect,  for  I  tell  you,  my  lord,  that  you  will 
never  forget  those  scenes  and  attract  ions  you 
allude  to,  so  they  will  need  no  recalling..  The 
events  of  this  night  are  written  upon  your 
heart,  and  brain,  and  their  record  will  never 
for  a  moment  pass  away." 

Poor  Jane's  faculties  had   been  so  com- 

Eletely  absorbed  by  the  dreadful  events  that 
a«l  taken  place  during  her  fearfiil  sojourn  in 
Peter  Bay  ley's  house,  thit  when  the  earl  fir- 
ed the  pistol  at  what  he  supposed  was  her, 
bat  what  in  reality  was  the  insensible  form 


of  Mrs.  Popham,  she  had  uttered  tl.e  shriek 
we  have  noticed,  and  then  nearly  fainted. 

Joe  thought  that  she  had  natarally  fallen 
into  a  swoon. 

"  Poor  thing,"  he  thought,  "  it  is  not  a 
bad  job  if  she  does  remain  in  this  kind  of  i. 
faint  till  these  rascals  are  gone." 

At  the  moment  of  the  discharge  of  the 
pistol,  Joe  had  let  go  his  hold  of  Mrs.  Pop- 
ham,  so  that  she  had  fallen  forwards,  but  he 
did  not  know  how  the  bullet  had  taken  effect 
just  then.  All  he  felt  certain  of  was  that 
Jane  had  been  saved,  and  that  he  himself 
was  unhurt. 

The  conversation  that  took  place  subse- 
quent to  the  act  of  murder  between  Bayley 
and  the  earl,  was  listened  to  by  Joe  with  th« 
greatest  interest,  for  he  felt  how  critical  and 
dangerous  his  and  Jane's  position  would  be 
it  they  should  come  into  the  cell  for  the  pur- 
pose of  seeing  the  effect  of  the  shot  that  had 
been  fired. 

It  they  had  done  so,  Joe  had  resolved  to 
sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  and  to  do 
his  utmost  to  defend  Jane ;  for  he  felt  that 
the  contest  that  would  have  ensued  would 
have  been  one  of  life  or  death. 

What  an  exquisite  relief  to  Joe  was  it 
when  he  heard,  at  length,  their  retiring  foot- 
steps  a'ong  the  passage.  He  listened  until 
all  trace  of  them  had  departed,  and  then  he 
turned  his  attention  to  poor  Jane.  » 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Joe,  "  it  seems  a  pity 
to  try  and  rouse  her  up  ;  but  it  won't  do  to 
leave  her  here.  I  said  I  would  try  and  get 
her  out  of  this  infernal  place,  and  I  will." 

"  1  do  not  sleep,"  said  Jane,  faintly. 

"  Sleep  ?  no.  I  didn't  think  you  did,  my 
dear;  but  I  did  think  that,  girl-like,  you 
had  fainted  away." 

"  Oh.  no — no.    I  did  not  quite  faint." 

"  But  you  did  nearly.  Well — well,  it's 
all  the  better.  I  suppose  you  know  what 
has  haj^pened  ?" 

Jane's  recollection  came  back  to  her,  and 
she  said,  shudderingly — 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  now  1  recollect  all,  and  I  con 
perceive  how  this  mistake  has  happened.  It 
is  very  dreadful ;  but  it  seems  like  a  just  re- 
tribution upon  that  dreadful  woman,  bhe 
came  to  murder  me." 

"  No  doubt  of  that.  Miss  Jane,  and  she 
would  have  cut  your  throat  as  soon  as  look 
at  you,  if  she  had  been  sober  enough  to  do  it, 
and  if  I  had  not  been  here  to  stop  her  at 
that  sort  of  fun,  as  in  course  I  should  ;  but, 
as  it  was,  she  was  too  far  gone  for  anybody 
to  care  to  interfere  with  her  at  all  in  thi 
matter,  you  see,  and  so  she  baa  got  settled 


:* 


IW 


JFEARLESS  FRED. 


eomfortably  instead  of  you;  and  here  we 
are,  and  the  door  open." 

"  Oh,  let  u8  leave  this. dreadful  place  at 
once." 

"  Come  on,  then.  But  no — one  moment. 
I  will  just  put  the  old  lady  out  of  your  way. 
Don't  be  impatient  for  a  moment  or  two." 

Joe  was  apprehensive  that  Mrs.  Popham 
mif^ht  present  some  fearful  spectacle  that 
might  have  the  effect  of  thoroughly  unman- 
ning poor  Jane,  so  he  stepped  through  the 
opening  in  the  wall  first,  before  he  would  al- 
low her  to  come,  and  then  he  saw,  by  the 
aid  of  a  phosphorus  match  that  he  lit,  the 
nature  of  the  injury  that  had  been  done  to 
Mrs.  Popham. 

"  Dead  as  a  herring  1"  he  said  :  "  and  if 
he  meant  it,  it  was  about  as  effectual  a  shot 
as  could  very  well  be ;  but  I  suppose  chance 
had  more  to  do  with  it  than  design,  as  he 
couldn't  possibly  have  seen  to  take  such  a 
good  aim  at  her  in  the  dark." 

With  this,  Mr.  Joe  pushed  the  dead  body 
into  the  mo.st  remote  corner  of  the  cell,  and 
then  he  called  to  Jane  to  come  through  the 
opeuiug  in  the  wall,  which  she  immediately 
did. 

"  Now,  Miss,"  he  said,  "  don't  you  go  for 
to  fancy  that  you  and  me  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  walk  out  of  this  place,  for  such  isn't 
the  fact.  We  may  have  a  kind  of  tussle  for 
it ;  but,  mind  you,  whatever  comes  of  me, 
don't  you  wait  if  you  see  a  chance  of  getting 
off.  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  for  myself,  as 
well  as  for  you  ;  but  if  the  worst,  you  know, 
tSould  come  to  the  worst,  it  is  better  that 
one  of  us  should  get  away  than  neither,  and 
I  should  like  that  one  to  be  you." 

"You  are  very  good  and  kind  to  me." 

"Follow  me,"  whispered  Joe.  "All  will 
depend  upon  who  is  on  duty  in  the  hall.  II' 
it's  some  two  or  three  of  Bayley's  men  that 
,  I  coulcl  see,  I  don't  think  they  would  stand 
mu'.h  in  '"^ur  way.  But  keep  up  your  heart 
now.  Mind,  there  is  no  danger  yet,  and, 
perhaps,  there  will  be  none  at  all." 

It  was  known  to  Jane,  as  well  as  to  Joe, 
that  there  was  a  door  at  the  head  of  the 
staircase  of  great  strength  and  thickness ; 
but  then  it  is  admitted  that  he,  Joe,  has  a 
key  that  will  open  it. 

Beyond  that  door  lay  a  passage,  in  which 
there  was,  night  and  day,  one  of  Peter  Bay- 
ley's  myrmidons  on  duty,  so  that  he  would 
have  to  be  either  conquered  or  propitiated  ; 
and  then  there  was  another  door  before  the 
passage  close  to  t^e  ante-door  of  Uic  house 
could  be  reached. 

Admitting,  though,  that  they  got  that  far, 


J 


bail 

Bpf5l 


they  would  not  be  tcry  likely  at  that 
to  encounter  any  one. 

It  was  the  sentinel  that  was  the  most 
ficuk  part  of  the  business  to  get  over,  and  _^ 
was  towards  discovering  who  be  was  of  Bay- 
ley's  men  that  Joe  now  felt  his  endeavon 
should  be  directed. 

When  Jane  had  been  conducted  into  thi 
dungeon-like  abode  by  Bayley,  the  stone  ste 
that  she  was  now  ascending  had  appeared  to 
her  to  be  very  few  in  quantity.     How  dit 
ferent  was  the  feeling  that  possessed  hql 
now  as  she  slowly  crept  up  them  after  Joe) 
She  thought  them   interminable,  and  thai 
she  should  never  get  upon  the  level  at  th| 
top  of  them,  and  leave  that  dreary  dungeoii 
abode  behind  her. 
"  Have  you  reached  the  door  ?"  she  said. 
"  Not  yet." 
"  Alas  I — alas  I" 
"  Nay,  now,  don't  give  up  when  we  are  80^ 
far  in  safety.    Here  is  the  door  at  last.  Con«| 
found  it  1" 
"  What  has  happened  ?" 
"  I  have  dropped  the  key,  that's  all.  DoiiTt, 
be  alarmed,  though.    I  will  soon  find  it. — f 
Did  you  not  hear  it  fall  ?" 

"  I  did.  Something  touched  my  foot  tt 
is  here — I  have  it."  ,  j 

In  the  intense  darkness,  Jane  had  soiqtf 
difiBculty  in  finding  Joe's  hand  into  which 
to  place  the  key ;  but  she  did  so  at  last,  and 
he  uttered  an  expression  of  satisfaction  at 
getting  it. 

It  would  be  quite  impossible  to  give  any 
idea  by  words  of  the  state  of  great  anxiety 
that  beset  Jane  during  this  time.  Each 
minute  appeared  to  be  an  hour  of  delay,  and 
she  was  perpetually  upon  the  point  of  urg- 
ing Joe  to  be  more  rapid  in  his  movements, 
at  the  same  time  that  she  felt  she  ought  not 
to  do  so,  and  that  all  he  was  doing  was  for 
the  best,  and  that  she  might  trust  his  judg- 
ment in  the  matter  most  implicitly  and  com- 
pletely. 
"  The  lock  is  rusty,"  said  Joe. 
"  You  cannot  open  it — Oh,  you  cannot 
open  it !" 

"  Hush  1  not  so  loud.  The  door,  thej 
say,  is  thick  enough  to  stop  all  sounds  ;  but 
still  it  is  possible  some  one  may  be  close 
enough  to  it  to  fancy  they  hear,  amid  such  a 
stillness  as  seems  to  be  in  the  house,  a  voice, 
and  if  so,  we  are  lost." 

At  these  words,  Jane  was  silent.  She 
shook  violently,  though,  and  her  stnse  of 
hearing  seemed  to  liave  become  preternatu 
rally  acute,  for  she  heard  the  key  in  the  lock 
BO  plainly,  that  it  was  quite  painful  to  listok 
to  the  slight  grating  sound  it  made. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


lo*; 


•  Yoa  cannot  unlock  it,"  said  Jane,  in 
•nch  a  faint  whisper,  that  it  was  quite  out 
ef  question  it  could  reach  anj  other  ears 
than  his. 

"  Yes — yes." 

The  lock  went  back  with  a  sudden  sound, 
and  Joe  paused  immediately  to  listen  if  he 
had  given  any  alarm. 

AH  was  still. 

"  Jane,"  he  said,  "  Jane?" 

"  Yes — oh,  yes.     I  am  here." 

"  I  begin  to  think  that  the  usual  sentinel 
il  not  behind  this  door." 

"  You  think  so  ?     Oh,  what  a  hope  1" 

"  Yes,  I  do  think  so  ;  and  if  it  be  so,  it 
•rises  from  the  fact  that  Peter  has  sent  all 
witnesses  of  the  earl's  presence  in  the  house 
out  of  the  way,  so  that  he  might  have  all 
that  secret  to  himself." 

"  It  must  be  so." 

"  It  looks  like  it,  I  confess ;  bat  do  you 
go  down  a  step  or  two,  while  I  open  the 
door  carefully." 

"  Yes,  I  will — I  will.  Much  as  I  dread 
even  the  return  of  a  step  or  two  to  this 
dreadful  place  below,  I  will  go." 

"  It  will  only  be  for  a  moment.  Take  cour- 
age. Every  instant  now  convinces  me  more 
and  more  that  there  is  no  one  here." 

At  this  moment,  when  they  thought  that 
escape  was  almost  in  their  grasp,  and  when 
Joe  had  the  key  actually  in  the  lock  of  the 
door,  that  they  suddenly  heard  a  footstep  in 
the  passage  beyond. 

Joe  paused. 

"  Oh,  we  are  lost !"  said  Jane. 

"  Hush !"  he  whispered.  "  Not  a  word. 
It  may  be  of  no  consequence,  after  all.  Do 
not  speak,  I  beg  of  you." 

Jane  wiis  silent,  but  from  excitement,  her 
heart  beat  so  violently  as  to  be  exceedingly 
painful,  and  she  pressed  both  her  hands  upon 
It  for  the  purpose  of  trying  to  still  its  tu- 
multuous throbbings. 

Joe  placed  his  ear  close  to  the  panel  of  the 
door,  and  listened  intently  to  every  sound. 

The  footstep  was  a  rough  one,  and  sud- 
denly it  ceased,  and  the  voice  of  Bayley  was 
heard,  saying — 

"  Ililioa  1  Is  this  the  way  you  keep 
watch?     Asleep,  idiot  1" 

Both  Jane  and  Joe  knew  that  voice. — 
There  was  no  such  thing  as  mistaking  it  af- 
ter having  once  heard  it.  It  was  the  voice 
of  Peter  Bayley  !  Yes,  there  they  were,  all 
but  in  the  power  of  their  most  dreaded  ene- 
my. 

For  a  moment  poor  Jane  thought  that 
•he  would  have  fallen  there  and  then  fainted 
npoD  the  stone  steps  leading  from  the  cells, 


but  by  one  great  eflFort  she  preserved  licrseii 
from  that  fate,  for  she  ftU  that  if  anything 
was  to  be  done  for  her  preservation  it  would 
only  be  by  taking  care  to  preserve  all  her 
faculties  about  her. 

Joe  was  staggered  by  this  unexpected  ap- 
pearance of  Peter  Bayky,  and  for  the  mo 
ment  he  hardly  knew  m  liat  to  do ;  but  la 
stood  with  the  master-key  in  his  hand,  that 
he  had  taken  from  Mrs.  Popliani,  as  if  that 
would  be  a  sufficient  weapon  witli  which  to 
fight  the  matter  out  with  Peter  Bayley. 

It  was  a  moment  of  suspense. 

What  reply  the  man,  who  had  been  upon 
duty  at  that  spot  and  fallen  asleep  upon  his 
post,  made  to  Peter  Bayley.  neither  Jue  nor 
Jane  heard,  for  he  spoke  in  a  very  low 
voice  ;  but  in  another  monunt  the  harsh  gra- 
i  ting  tones  of  Bayley's  voice  came  again  to 
their  ears  quite  plainly. 

"  Not  asleep,  wretch?"  he  said. 

Then  they  heard  the  nuin  speak. 

"  No,  Mr.  Bayley.  I  was  deep  in  thought. 
I  admit,  but  I  was  not  asleep." 

"  You  were,  vagabond  !" 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Bayley,  for  contradict- 
ing you,  but  I  was  not.  'I'lie  (act  is,  nobody 
is  at  all  likely  to  sleep  in  your  service  al- 
though one  might  do  so  better  than  in  any 
other's." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  I  just  mean  that  you  arc  al- 
ways so  wide  awake,  that  I  don't  think  much 
harm  could  possibly  happen  if  every  one 
else  in  the  house  was  to  go  to  sleep." 

»  Oh,  indeed  1" 

It  was  evident  enough,  by  the  alteration 
in  Bayley's  tone,  that  he  was  a  little  modi- 
6ed  by  the  politic  compliment  of  the  mar 
who  was  on  duty. 

"  Hark  you,"  he  added  ;  "  don't  let  mc 
catch  you  at  this  sort  of  thing  again,  or  it 
will  fare  worse  with  you." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Now,  tell  me,  have  you — have  you."— 
Bayley  did  not  know  very  well  how  toshapt 
his  question,  and  he  paused  lor  a  moment  be- 
fore he  added,  "  Have  you  heani  any  sound 
from  the  cells  since  I  was  there  ?" 

"  Not  the  least,  Mr.  Bayley." 

"  But  have  you  listened  ?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,  Mr.  Bayley.  I  keep  my 
ears  open  always." 

"  But  not  your  eyes.  Ha  !  you  manage 
to  listen  while  you  are  asleep,  do  you,  curse 
you  ?" 

As  he  spoke,  all  the  natural  ferocity  '^f 
Bayley's  character  seemed  to  return  to  him, 
and  Jane  and  Joe  heard  the  rattle  of  his  key 
in  the  lock  in  the  door.   Poor  Jane  gave  her 


108 


FEAKLESS  FRED. 


self  np  for  lost,  but  not  bo  Joe.  He  had 
quite  reco-.trwl  from  the  first  state  of  panic 
iuto  which  lie  hal  been  thrown,  and  now 
ci'olly  and  c;ilinly  did  all  he  could. 

It 'was  strange  liow  none  of  Bayley's  peo- 
plf  tlijuiilit  that,  single-handed,  it  would  be 
at  all  possible  to  get  the  better  of  the  ras- 
cal, lly  .some  means  he  had  succeeded  in 
iinpre.ssing  u[)on  tlicm,  one  and  all,  the  idea 
that  anytliing  in  the  shape  of  a  personal 
striiirglc  wi-th  him  would  be  one  of  the  most 
hopele-ss  things  in  all  the  world. 

It  was  (inite  a  pity  that,  without  giving 
the  matter  much  thought,  Joe  joined  in  the 
idea. 

If  sucIj  had  not  been  the  impression  upon 
the  mind  of  Joe,  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  to  hintier  him  from  trying  his  strength 
upon  Peter  Bayley. 

There  would  have  been  some  evident  ad- 
vantages, too,  upon  the  side  of  Joe,  for  he 
could  have  taken  the  rascal  at  unawares,  and 
certainly  dealt  him  the  first  blow,  which,  in 
a  contest  of  that  nature,  would  have  been 
one  httif  the  battle. 

Joe  had  a  knife,  too  ;  and  he  had  suffered 
quite  enough  from  Bayley,  and  knew  the  vil- 
lain quite  well  enough,  to  enable  him  to 
ehakc  off  any  scruples  he  might  otherwise 
have  bad  about  raising  it;  but  the  idea  of 
fighting  t.he  affair  out  with  Peter  Bayley,  un- 
le.ss  he  could  rot  help  such  a  course,  did  not 
come  pleasantly  hoine  to  Joe's  comprehen- 
sion at  all. 

As  for  Jane,  of  couree  she  felt  that  she 
could  not  doubt  the  greater  tact  and  experi- 
eiice  of  the  man  who  was  with  her  under  such 
ci'."cuuistances. 

The  brief  conversation  that  Bayley  had 
i:ad  with  his  drowsy  Bentinel  had  just  given 
Joe  time  to  lock  the  door  again,  which  it 
will  be  remcmbere.l  ho  had  succeeded  in  un- 
locking with  tilt!  master-key  he  had  obtained 
from  the  dclightfu!  Mrs.  Popham.  It  was  a 
great  olijcet  gained  not  to  excite  Bayley's 
suspicion  that  there  was  anything  amiss  at 
present. 

Joe  thcp  whispered  to  Jane  as  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  arm  gently — 

'•  Back — back — back — " 

"  Oh,  no — no." 

'•  Yes.  I  sav.  You  must.  I  will  tell  you 
what  to  do.  "We  must  tret  down  the  steps 
agiiin.  Hush — hush!  Becomes — he  comes!" 

There  was  the  flash  of  a  light,  and  Jane, 
feeling  that  il'  she  did  place  her  fortune  and 
Vwc  in  the  liands  of  Joe,  the  only  thing  she 
ccald  do  Wis  to  obey  his  instructions,  retreat- 
■jd  Willi  a  h^iavj  h.i'art  rfown  those  steps  a- 


gain,  •which  she  thought  she  had  left  for  evcj 
a  few  moments  since. 

"  Death,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Death 
is  even  preferable  to  falling  into  the  haoda 
of  Peter  Bayley." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Joe. 

The  flash  of  light  that  had  come  through 
the  murky  atmosphere  of  that  place  came 
from  a  little  oil-lamp  that  Peter  Bayley  car- 
ried to  light  him  on  his  way. 

It  gave  but  a  small  light  at  anytime, that 
lamp,  even  in  the  purest  atmosphere,  but  the 
moment  the  little  flame  encountered  the 
damps  of  the  cells  and  the  clo.se  and  dank  re- 
gions around  them,  it  gradually  dwindled 
down. 

Bayley  thought  it  was  going  out ;  and  ut- 
tering a  malediction  upon  it,  he  paused  for  a 
moment  to  look  at  it. 

That  pause  enabled  Joe  and  Jane  to  reach 
the  foot  of  the  stone  staircase,  and  to  run  to- 
wards the  open  door  of  Jane's  cell,  so  that 
they  were  fiairly  enough  out  of  Bayley's  way 
for  the  moment,  at  all  events. 

"  Curses  on  the  light !"  muttered  Bayley, 
as  he  watched  the  little  flame  ;  but  then,  as 
he  saw  that  after  reaching  rather  a  low 
point  of  combustion,  it  got  no  worse,  he  at 
once  attributed  it  to  its  right  cause. 

"  It  is  the  bad  air  here,  he  muttered. 
"  Well — well,  so  long  as  it  don't  go  out,  it 
will  do,  and  the  air  is  good  enough  for  them 
that  I  choose  to  place  here  to  breathe  it." 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  whispered  Jane. 

"I  don't  know,  yet." 

"  But  our  discovery  is  certain." 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  like  it.  rather." 

"  You  are  a  man.  You  will  not,  surely, 
let  yourself  be  conquered  by  another  man  ? 
You  will  raise  your  arm  against  that  mons- 
ter in  human  shape,  even  lor  my  sake,  as  well 
as  your  ov/n  V 

"  I  will." 

"And  I,  too,  will  defend  myself.  Oh, 
that  I  had  some  weapon  with  which  to  do  so 
eSectually  1" 

These  words  of  Jane  recalled  Joe  to  the 
obvious  fact  that  he  might,  if  he  chose,  sure- 
ly, even  with  some  chance  of  success,  fight 
with  Peter  Bayley,  and  he  sought  for  the  han- 
dle of  the  knife  that  he  had  so  opportunely 
taken  from  Mrs.  Popham. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  will  fight." 

"  Hush  I  Oh,  hush  1  He  approaches  l" 
whispered  Jane. 

They  both  crouched  down  close  to  the 
door  of  the  cell,  in  which  lay  the  dead  body 
of  Mrs.  Popham,  and  they  heard  Bayley 
mcttering  to  himself,  as  he  came  slowly  on. 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


I0» 


"  Onrses  en  him !  I  wish  he  had  not  done 
h ;  but  I  must  difj;  a  hole  in  the  floor  of  the 
cell,  and  bury  her,  and  every  time  I  come 
down  here,  I  shall  feel — what  1  feel  now  !" 

The  wretch  shook  perceptibly,  and  had  to 
lean  against  the  damp  stone  wall  for  sup- 
port 

"  Why  didn't  I  stay  his  hand  ?"  he  said. 
"  I  mi<rht  have  done  it.  If  I  had  said  no  to  the 
deed,  of  course,  there  would  have  been  an  end 
of  it,  and  he  dared  not  have  raised  a  finjrer 
against  her ;  but  1  let  him  do  it — yes,  I  let 
him  do  it,  and  now  I  feel  half  mad  at  the 
thought  ♦hat  I  did  do  so.  God,  I — I — shall 
never  forget  it !" 

This  was,  probably,  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  tliat  Peter  Bayley  had  had  any  feeling 
of  remorse  for  a  deed  of  blood  ;  but,  some- 
how, the  beauty,  the  youth,  the  innoconcc, 
and  tlie  rare  and  marvellous  courage  of  Jane, 
had  awakened,  even  in  the  heart   of  that 


0W8  that  are  here,  I  shall  shudder  to  think 
that  her  fair  and  delicate  spirit  may  be  haunt- 
ing me,  and  gazing  at  me  with  those  eyc« 
that  even  now  seem  as  if  they  beamed  on  me." 

As  he  drew  this  imaginative  picture  to 
himself,  tlie  agitation  of  Bayley  increase^ 
and  he  staggered  back  a  pace  or  two,  cry- 
ing— 

"  No — no,  Jane !  I  tell  you  I  did  not  d<i 
it.  It  was  the  earl — It  was  your  uncle  who 
did  the  deed  !  Help !  help  !  mercy  !  No ! 
no !  Hush  1  Ob,  what  is  all  this  ?  Am  I 
mad  ?" 

"  Your  nncle.  did  he  say  ?"  whispered  Joe, 
in  so  gentle  a  voice,  close  to  the  ear  of  Jane, 
that  she  started  at  the  first  sound. 

"  He  did,"  she  replied. 

"  But  it  was  the  Earl  of  Broughton,  Pe- 
ter said." 

"  Hush  I  hush  1    He  speaks  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe,  "  and  he  has  already  spo- 


wicked  man,  a  feeling  of  respect  and  admi- ;  ken  enough  to  give  me  an  idea  that,  I  think. 


ration  ;  and  now  that  she  was  gone,  he  fully 
believed,  in  consequence  of  the  pistol-shot  of 
the  Earl  of  Broughton  he  felt  that  he  would 
five  anything  to  restore  her  to  existence  a- 
gain.  » 


is  a  good  one." 

Bayley  spoke  again,  in  a  weak  voice. 

"  That  is  past,"  he  said.  •'  What  was  it 
that,  for  the  moment,  seemed  to  drive  me  to 
the  ver^e  of  distraction?     Was  it  the  con- 


And  yet,  what  would  Bayley  have  done,  !  sciousncss  that  I  had  to  do  this  dreadful 
had  he  been  assured  that  Jane  live<l  ?  !  night's  work  yet — to  bury  the  body?     Yes, 

If  the  young  creature  had  stepped  forward,  that  is  the  worst  of  it.  It  was  easy  to  fire 
Mid  said,  "  I  am  here  I  The  bullet  intended  the  shot  that  did  the  deed,  but  it  is  not  easy 
for  me  entered  another  bosom  !"  what  would  to  hide  the  evidence  of  it,  I  oujiht  to  have 
Bayley  then  have  done?  !  made  him  come  and  bury  the  body." 

the  possibility   is,  that  the  feelings  to- j     •' Bayley  took  the  lamp  from  the  little  iron 
wards  her  of  pity  and  of  admiration,  brought  bracket, 
into  existence  by  the  presumed  fact  of  her  j     "Jane?"  whispered  Joe. 
death,  would  have  vanished,  and  he  would]      "Yes.  I  hear." 

have  thought  only  of  how  he  was  to  turn  her  j  "  When  I  say  to  you  '  Now !'  I  wish  you 
continued  existence  to  account  against  the  to  advance,  and  to  say  in  a  deep  and  solemn 
Earl  of  Broughton,   for  the  purpose  of  ex-  voice,  '  Peter  Bayley  [ 


torting  money  from  him. 

Again  Bayley  wiped  the  streaming  drops 


"  Ah !  I  comprehend." 
"  I  thought  you  would. 


Our  only  chance. 


of  cold  perspiration  from  his  face,  and  then    now,  is  to  terrily  Bayley  with  the  idea  that 
he  said —  '  it  is  your  spirit  he  sees  before  him.    In  hi« 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  that  Lolan-!  present  frame  of  mind,  that  will  not  be  at 
ti,  whom  I  once  knew  so  well  should  fall  by  all  difiicult.  It  is  far  better  than  killing 
my  hand  at  last,  and  that  the  young  girl  him,  I  think,  and  I  suppose  you  will  think 
whom  he  so  often  pointed  out  to  me  should  the  same." 


be  a  bleeding  corpse  in  one  of  my  cells?" 
Neither  Jane  nor  Joe  ventured  to  say  a 

word,  now,  although  they  plainly  heard  all 

that  Pet«r  Bayley  uttered,  and  were  deeply 

interested  ir.  it. 
"  Well — well,"  said  Bayley,  at  last,  ma- 

•cins:  an  effort  to  recover  his  usual  state  of 


"  Oh,  yes — yes  !" 

"You  will  do  it,  then  f* 

"  I  will— I  will  I" 

"  Hush  1    Not  so  loud." 

Peter  Bayley  advanced  now  slowly,  and 
with  such  •  staggering  step,  that,  if  they  had 
not  been  well  aware  from  his  previous  con- 


indiHerence  to  the  fate  of  others.  "It  is  duct  that  sach  was  not  the  fact,  both  Joe  and 
done,  now,  and  it  cannot  be  undone;  but  Jane  would  have  thought  lim  under  the  in- 
nevej  shall  I  set  my  foot  within  this  place  fluence  of  liquor ;  but  such  waj  not  the  case, 
without  a  shudder  as  I  think  of  Jane  ;  and  |  ^t  was  the  mind  of  the  villaic  that  had  ex- 
Ibera  will  be  times  when,  amid  the  dim  shad- 1 


110 


FEARLESS  FRED. 


EerienccO  such  a  shock  as  it  had  not  known 
eforc. 

The  dislance  he  had  to  traverse,  before 
reaching  the  spot  upon  which  were  Joe  and 
Jane,  was  about  twenty-five  paces ;  but  Bay- 
ley  crept  rather  than  walked  on,  so  that  he 
was  much  longer  in  arriving  near  them  than 
under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  have 
been. 

1'he  door  of  the  cell,  too,  was  wide  open 
— that  is  to  say,  it  was  at  right  angles  with 
the  opening — so  that  both  Jane  and  Joe 
were  hidden  most  ellectualiy  by  it  from  the 
eight  of  Bayley,  although  he  held  the  lamp 
about  a  foot  above  his  head,  and  with  agaze 
of  intense  fear  looked  right  before  him,  as 
though  he  fully  expected  to  catch  a  glance  of 
some  horrible  object 

*'  Now  !"  said  Joe,  in  a  low  tone. 

Jane  had  nerved  herself  for  the  part  she 
had  to  play,  and  the  circumstance  that  most 
had  enabled  her  to  do  so,  was  the  one  that. 
if  she  did  not  do  it  effectually,  the  death  of 
Bayley  would  be  the  only  alternative.  Her 
gentle,  womanly  nature  revolted  at  the  idea 
of  even  the  death  of  such  a  man  as  Peter 
Bayley. 

The  moment  Joe  gave  her  the  signal,  she 

stepped  from  behind  the  door,  and  appeared 

.right  in  the  path  of  Bayley.     She  held  up 

both   her  arms,  and  in  solemn   tones,  she 

eaid — 

"  Peter  Bayley  I  Peter  Bayley  1" 

The  already  excited  imagination  of  Bayley 
was  well  prepared  for  all  the  effect  that  this 
seeming  apparition  of  the  murdered  Jane 
had  upon  it,  and  v/ith  a  horrible  yell  he  fell 
backwards  to  the  stone  floor,  dashing  the 
lamp  to  pieces  in  his  falL 

All  was  still, 

"  That  has  done  it,"  said  Joe.  "  He  is 
dead." 

"Dead?" 

"  Yes.  I  heard  his  head  go  with  such  a 
crash  against  the  stones,  that  if  it  stands 
that  it  will  stand  anything.  How  dark  it 
is  I  Where  are  you,  Jane  ? — where  are  you  ?" 

♦'  Here  I  am — here,"  said  Jane,  in  a  fhiut 
Toice. 

Nibbling  Joe  took  her  by  the  hand,  and 
led  her  carefully  along  the  narrow  passage, 
and  up  the  staircase  to  the  door  leading  to 
the  hall.  On  reaching  the  latter,  Joe  peep- 
ed carefully  through  a  small  hole,  and  per- 
ceived that  the  guard  had  fallen  asleep  on  his 
post.  On  making  this  joyful  discovery,  Joe 
beckoned  his  companion  to  follow  him  care- 
fill  ly,  and  they  were  soon  out  of  Ihe  dreadful 
habitation  of  the  thief-taker. 


CHAPTER  Xin. 

At  the  time  that  Fearless  Fi  td  enterea 
the  house  of  the  Chancellor,  the  latter  was 
engaged  in  listening  to  the  representations 
of  i\lrs.  Block,  who  had  come  to  London  on 
purpose  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  celebrateci 
highwayman. 

The  Lord  Chancellor  had  previously  been 
acquainted  with  the  lady,  on  account  of  some 
good  service  that  her  husband  had  done  for 
him  in  other  days.  Hence  he  gave  her  an 
audience  mure  cheerfully.  As  the  lady  pro- 
ceeded with  her  narration,  the  Chancellor 
evinced  an  interest  which  the  simple  facts  in 
her  story  were,  in  the  opinion  of  Mrs.  Block, 
hardly  sufficient  to  account  for. 

It  so  happened  that  during  his  stay  with 
Mrs.  Block,  Fearless  Fred  had  given  that 
lady  a  full  history  of  his  early  life.  He  had 
told  her  that  he  was  a  foundling,  and  had 
mentioned  the  date  of  the  period  at  which 
he  was  discovered  in  a  common  tavern,  as 
stated  at  the  opening  of  our  narrrative.  This 
part  of  her  story  aroused  the  attention  of 
the  Lord  Chancellor,in  so  marked  a  manner 
that  Airs.  Block  was  surprised  at  the  emo- 
tion he  betrayed.  When  she  had  concluded, 
he  put  several  questions,  which  she  apparent- 
ly  answered  to  his  satisfaction,  as  he  cried 
out — "  It  is  surely  my  own  son  !  This  per- 
son must  be  saved  at  all  events.  A  child 
answering  precisely  the  description  of  Fear- 
less Fred  was  stolen  from  us  at  the  period 
you  mention,  and  there  cannot  be  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  that  this  highwayman  is  my  son." 

Mrs.  Block  expressed  her  gratification  at 
this  discovery,  and  regretted  that  the  young 
man  was  not  at  hand  in  order  that  the 
Chancellor  might  have  an  rpportanity  to 
ideutity  him.  It  was  while  they  were  in  thf 
midst  of  this  conversation  that  a  considera- 
ble bustle  was  heard  at  the  door,  attended 
with  angry  exclamations.  The  Cliancellor 
Inquired  what  was  the  matter,  and  was  in- 
formed that  a  young  stranger  insisted  upon 
seeing  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  that  the  ser- 
vants were  endeavoring  to  prevent  his  en 
trance.  Mrs.  Block  started  up  in  agitation, 
and  the  Chancellor  ordered  that  the  stran- 
ger should  be  immediately  admitted  to  his 
presence.  In  another  moment  Fearless  Fred 
rushed  into  the  apartment  with  the  cedar- 
box  in  his  hand.  The  Chancellor  was  in- 
formed that  this  was  the  individual  about 
whom  he  had  been  speaking,  and  he  immedi- 
ately fell  to  questioning  Fred  about  bis  hii> 
tory,  especially  the  early  part  of  it.  Fred 
looked  from  Mrs,  Block  ta  the  Chancellor, 


FEARLESS   FRED. 


Ill 


and  seemed  much  at  a  Ides  to  understand  the 
meauing  of  all  he  saw  and  heard.  At  length 
the  Chancellor  embraced  Fred,  and  called 
him  his  son.  The  latter  was,  of  course  much 
surprised,  and  Mrs.  Block  congratulated  him 
upon  having  found  a  father.  Finally  the 
cedar-box  was  produced  aud  opened,  which 
contained  papers  that  established  the  claims 
of  Jane  I  o  the  estates  of  the  Earl  of  Brough- 
ton,  and  which  proved  her  to  be  a  Countess 
Id  her  own  right. 
LittJd  needs  Co  be  added.     Throngh  thQ 


influence  of  the  Chancellor,  a  fait  pardon 
was  obtained  tor  Fearless  Fred,  ?vho  entered 
at  once,  upon  a  course  of  honor  and  pros- 
perity, while  Jane,  whose  escape  with  Nib- 
bling Joe  was  perfectly  successful,  became 
united  in  marriage  with  the  man  whom  she 
had  so  long  and  so  fervently  loved.  Wc 
need  not  say  that  the  happiness  of  the  par- 
ties was  complete,  aud  that  this  union  put 
an  end  to  the  wuiuleriug  aud  UQcertain  ca* 
roer  of  rBASLSss  fr&d. 


DICK  &  FITZGElEtALD'S  OATALOGtJE;. 
^EW  SEIilES    OF  jrOJ^EI.8   ^JBOUT 

Celebrated  Highwaymen  and  Housebreakers, 

.  ♦ « 

This  thrilliiig  new  series  of  novels  embraces  the  Bomantic  Exploits  and  Adventures  <A 
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LIVES   OF  CELEBRATED    HBCHWAYMEN. 

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Ned  Scarlet,  the  Daring  Highwayman.    With  numerous  illustrations.— 

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DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  OATALOGUE. 


PIERCE    ECAN'S   NOVELS. 

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J.   F.   SMITH'S    CELEBRATED    NOVELS. 

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tvae  to  nature,  so  life-like,  that  the  reader  can  scarcely  zealue  the  fact  that  he  is  reading  fiction. 

%•  For  a  complete  list  of  J.  F.  Smith's  Novels,  see  page  14. 

Copies  of  any  books  in  this  Catalogue  sent  free  of  postage  upon  receipt  of  the  prioe.  9enA 
eoA  orders  to  DICK  &   FITZGERAJJD,  PubUshers,  New   York. 


DICK  &  FEl'ZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE. 


SEA   AND   PIRATE  TALES. 

The  Pirate  Doctor  ;  or,  The  Extraordinary  Career  of  a  New  York  Physicum.— 
This  story  has  had  a  tremendous  Kile.  It  was  first  printed  in  a  newspaper,  and  ran  up  the  circulation  of  the 
Miper  several  thous;uid.  Then  it  was  printed  in  a  book,  and  thiity  thousand  more  sold.  It  is  now  printed  a 
Rurd  time,  and  people  are  as  eager  to  got  it  as  ever.  Wo  expect  that  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  will  be 
■old,  for  when  any  body  roads  it  he  tcUs  others  about  it,  and  in  this  way  it  "runs  like  the  cholera,"  It  is  a 
sort  of  blood-and -thunder  story,  but  the  interest  it  excites  when  you  begin  it,  excuses  some  of  the  improba- 
Wlitios  of  the  plot.  It  has  107  closely-printed  double-column  octavo  pages,  and  wc  send  it  post-paid  for  25 
Mnts  per  copy. 

Garnelle";  or,  The  Rover's  Oath.  Tliis  is  one  of  the  most  spirited  and  romantic 
DOTels.  Full  of  life  and  fire,  it  excites  the  reader  and  carries  him  onward  as  the  details  of  the  wild  and  ro- 
mantic adventures  of  the  robber,  "  Garnelle,"  are  vividly  recorded,  and  it  is  with  mingled  sensations  of  terror 
md  delight  that  he  i>e ruses  this  volume  of  ocean  adventure.    Price — -        <25 

The  Yankee  Privateer;  or,  Tlie  Traitor  Merchant.  J.  H.  Ingraham.  This 
exciting  t-ale  is  founded  upon  events  that  actually  transpired  during  the  war  of  1812,  and  shows  how  some 
sharp  Yankee  tars  got  a  littlo  the  best  of  John  Bull.    Price - 25 

The  Smuggler  of  St.  Malo.  By  J.  H.  Ingraham.  This  capital  novel  is  full  of 
Interesting  adventures  both  by  sea  and  land,  and  will  please  any  person  who  is  fond  of  an  exciting  lore  story. 
Price 35 

Paul  Jones  •  or.  The  Son  of  ihe  Sea.  This  novel  is  founded  upon  events  that  oc- 
curred during  the  Revolutionary  War.  Paul  Jones  was  our  bravest  captain,  and  this  tale  describes  hit 
exploits  in  fighting  the  British  navy.    Price .- —        25 

David  Watson,  the  London  Apprentice.    A  Fomance  of  the  Sea.    This  is 

an  old  fashion'^fl,  but  an  excellent  aud  wcU-toid  story  of  the  life  and  adventures  of  a  jioor  boy,  who  made  a 
considerable  tti."  in  the  world.  It  turns  out  woll,  as 'all  old-fashionod  stones  necessarily  must.  It  is  a  book 
of  106  closely-printed  octavo  pages.    Price — - 25 

Olph  •  or,  The  Pirate  of  ihe  Shoals.  One  of  Professor  Ingraham's  most  romantic  and 
thrilling  tales  of  the  sea.  It  is  a  story  that  you  will  be  delighted  with,  even  if  you  only  commence  to  read  it 
The  hero,  a  pirate  from  compulsion,  loses  no  opportunity  to  alleviate  the  distresses  of  those  who  fall  into  pi' 
ratical  hands.     Connected  wiih  his  history  is  a  love  plot  of  exciting  interest.    Price 25 

The  Dancing  Feather ;  or.  The  Pirate  Schooner.  .  A  romance  of  New  York,  with 
Sequel  included.  By  J.  H.  Ingraham,  author  of  '•  Captain  Kidd,"  etc.  This  is  an  exciting  sea  story,  and  like 
•lithe  productions  ofits  celebrated  author,  is  of  the  highest  dramatic  interest.    Price 25 

The  "White  Cruiser  ;  or.  The  Fate  of  the  Unheard  Of.  A  Naval  Piratical  Romance, 
by  Ned  Buntline,  author  of  '•  The  My.steries  and  Miseries  of  New  York."  This  book  abounds  with  startling 
descriptions  of  adventures  in  our  own  waters.    Price - — 25 

Josephine;  or.  The  Maid  of  the  Gulf,  By  J.  H.  Ingraham,  author  of  "The  Dancing 
Feather,"  et "  This' book  contains  a  true  history  of  some  of  tho  most  notorious  pirates  that  ever  infested  the 
seas.  Its  pages  abound  with  the  most  stirring,  thrilling  and  cold-bloode<l  deeds  that  have  ever  been  recorded. 
Prioe 25 

The  Pirate  Chief;  or.  The  Gutter  of  the  Ocean.  By  the  author  of  "Josephine," 
•«  Tho  Uaucing  Feather,"  "  Pirate  of  the  Shoals,"  etc.    A  book  full  of  pirate  adventures.    Price 25 

Olonois,  The  Buccaneer  ;  or.  The  Pirates  of  America.  The  Adventures  of  the 
Pirates,  which  are  here  narrated,  are  of  so  romantic  and  monstrous  a  nature,  that  they  rival  in  detail  the 
most  improbable  tales  of  fictioa.    The  work  is  one  of  the  most  exciting  interest.    Price 25 


Tales  of  lUTe-vir  Yorh  Life. 

Caroline  Tracv,  the  Milliner's  Apprentice;  or.  Life  in  New  York  among  Uu 

Ziofty  and  Lowly.  Being  the  Romantic  Adventures  of  a  Young  Girl  in  Now  York  during  1817  and  1848.  This 
is  a  spirited  romance  of  "New  York  Life,  and  exposes  some  of  the  mysteries  of  this  great  city,  in  a  way  which 
will  make  the  uninitiated  stare.     It  is  a  book  of  near  100  closely-printed  octavo  pages.    Price 26 

The  Belle  of  the  Bcwery.  An  entertaining  history  of  Life  in  and  arnmid  New 
York — showing  how  young  women  who  have  no  homes  pot  aloncr.  and  how  young  greenhorns  are  changed  into 
Bowery  boys,  Aic.     It  is  a  rich,  amusing,  and  highly-entertaining  story.    Price 35 

The  Orphan  Seamstress.  A  Narrative  of  Innoconce,  Guilt,  Mystery  and  Crime. 
By  the  author  of  "  Caroline  Tracy."  This  narrative  of  events  in  New  York  is  especially  interesting,  as  it  al- 
ludes to  incidents  which  every  newspaper  reader  must  remember.    Price J85 

The  Matricide's  Daughter.  A  Tale  of  the  Events  which  occurred  in  the  city  of 
New  York  twenty  years  ago.  By  Nf.wto.-*  M.  Cunris.  This  is  a  story  of  thrilling  inteiest,  con taining  .t  nar- 
rative of  a  mysterious  crimo  and  its  consequences.  It  introduces  tho  reador  into  all  sorts  of  queer  company, 
from  that  of  a  forger  and  bogus-money  maker,  to  tho  smart  .and  cute  lawyer,  who  is  determined  to  make  his 
fortune  if  possible.    Price ., 35 

On  receipt  of  the  price,  either  m  cash  or  stamps,  copies  of  any  of  the  abot^e-jiamed  books 
trifl  he  sent  to  any  part  of  the  United  Stales  or  Ganadas,  either  by  maU  or  express,  securely  and 
natUff  padced,  post-paid.     Address  DICE  &  FITZGERALD,  Pnblhherg,  Hev  York. 


DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE. 


"  Tramps' S"  American  Hoy le;     or,    Gentlemen's   Handbook   oj 

Oatiut.  Contain  as  cU-ar  and  complete  descriptions  of  all  the' games  played  in  tho  United  St:ites,  with  th« 
Ajnerican  rules  f.)r  playing  them;  including  Whist,  Euchre,  Besique,  Cribbage,  All- Fours,  Loo,  Poker, 
Brag,  Piquet,  licarte,  Boston,  Cassino,  Chess,  Che  leers,  B.icksammon,  Dominoes.  Billiards,  and  a  hundred 
other  games.  To  which  is  appended  a  Treatise  on  the  l^octrine  of  Chances,  arid  numerous  decisions  on 
disputed  points.  This  work  is  designed  to  be  an  American  authority  for  all  tho  various  games  of  skill  an4 
chance.  It  has  been  prepared  with  gieat  care  by  the  Editor,  with  the  assistance  of  a  number  of  gentlemen 
players  of  skill  and  alility,  and  is  not  a  re-hash  of  English  games,  but  a  live  American  book,  expressly  pre* 
pared  for  American  readers. 

The  following  extra:;t  is  taken  from  a  lengthy  notice  in  "VS'ilkes*  Spirit  of  the  Times: 

'•We  have  read  '  The  American  Hoyle  '  with  care,  and  can  strongly  recommend  it  as  a  very  ngoful  book 
to  those  who  en;r.if;c  in  games  of  cards,  dominoes,  backgammon,  and  the  like.  It  ouglit  to  bo  in  every  club- 
room,  and  in  evory  place  where  parties  mei^t  for  their  evening  gnmc.  Tho  long  nights  of  the  winter  season 
*re  now  at  hand,  ani  tlieso  gaines  will  be  often  resorted  to,  to  while  a  few  hours  away.  Though  most  ly  played 
only  for  amusement,  thoy  slxnuid  always  be  played  correctly  ;  and  disputes  arising  over  them  ^<icn  no  money 
la  at  stake  are  often  quite  as  bitter  and  acrimonious  as  when  there  is.  Therefore  this  book  sliould  be  at  hand 
to  settle  such  cases  a-!  thoy  arise.  Moreover,  the  rules  laid  down  to  guide  the  player  so  as  to  make  him  play 
the  game  scientifically  are  very  interesting  and  valuable,  even  to  those  who  are  woU  versed  in  the  bubject. 
To  a  beginner  they  will  be  invaluable.  The  rules  we  now  allude  to  are  not  the  laws  of  the  game,  but  the 
rules  and  deductions  of  the  best  players  given  to  form  a  method  of  successful  play.  After  having  laid  down 
the  principles  and  laws  of  each  giime,  '  The  American  lloylc '  goes  on  to  give  the  rules  which  tho  player 
should  follow,  under  the  laws  aforesaid,  to  discomfit  his  adversary  and  win  for  himself.  As  a  matter  of  conrae, 
the  applica;  ion  of  these  rules  is  and  must  be  mainly  left  to  the  judgment  of  the  player.  The  laws  of  the 
game  are  fixed  and  immutable  ;  the  rules  of  play  oitea  require  to  be  varied  and  relaxed  according  to  circum- 
stances. But  to  be  a  good  player  a  man  should  know  these  philosophical  general  rule.'  of  play.  He  may  be 
a  good  player  without  ever  having  mastered  the  scientific  theory  of  the  game,  hut  it  is  a  hundred  to  one  that 
he  never  will.    We  recommend  the  purchase  of  this  book  to  all  players — proficients  and  beginners  alike." 

The  American  Hoyle  contains  over  500  pages,  is  printed  on  fine  white  paper,  bound  in  cloth,  with  extra 
gilt  side  and  back,  and  is  profusely  illustrated  with  engravings  explaining  the  different  games. 

Price ^ S2  00 

Mrs.   Crowen's   American    Lady's  Cookery   Book. 

Oomprising  every  variety  of  information  for  ordinary  and  holiday  occasions,  and  cont^iining  over  1200 
Original  Receipts  for  preparing  and  Cooking  Soups  and  Broths,  Fish  and  OyKtcis,  Clams,  Mu.^cles  and  Scol- 
lops, Lobsters,  Crabs  and  Terrapins,  Meats  of  all  kinds.  Poultry  and  Game,  Eggs  and  Chepso,  Yege'ablos  and 
Salads,  Sauces  of  all  kinds.  Fancy  Desserts,  Puddings  and  Custards,  Pies  and  Tarts,  Bread  and  Biscuit, 
Rolls  and  Cakes,  Preserves  and  Jollies,  Pickles  anl  Catsups,  Potted  Meats,  etc.,  etc.  Tog'.thor  with  Valu- 
able and  important  hints  on  choosing  and  purchasing  all  kinds  of  Provisions  and  preparing  ripe  Fruits  fot 
the  Table,  Bills  of  Fare  for  the  relief  of  young  housekeepers.  Arrangement  of  tha  Tabic  for  every  variety  o( 
Dinner  Parties,  Eti<]upttc  of  the  Dinncf-Tatle,  Cookery  lor  Invalids,  Carving  Sladc  Easy,  etc.  Tho  whole 
beag  a  complete  system  of  American  Cookery.  By  Mits.  T.  J.  Cuowen.  Illustrated  with  several  i;iagr.!nWi 
This  genuine  and  re.ally  practical  American  Cook  Book  is  worth  a  thousand  of  the  foreign  republientiorn 
which  are  issued  from  the  press  m  this  country.  ISIks.  Ckowen  gives  directions  for  making  all  sorts  of  t-oo" 
nomical  dishes,  baking  all  kinds  of  cakes  and  pics,  manufacturing  every  variety  of  confectionery,  preserving 
pickling,  &c.,  so  jjlainly  that  tlie  housekeeper  of  a  week's  standing  can  easily  .act  upua  her  directions  ;  anq 
yet  she  has  taken  so  comprehensive  a  scope,  that  the  very  best  and  most  skillful  will  find  something  new. 
All  the  Receipts  in  this  work  have  been  carefully  tried,  and  may  be  relied  upon  as  the  result  of  actual  expe- 
rience.   12mo,  cloth  binding,  474  pages.    Price - §3  00 

Frank  Converse's  Complete  Banjo  Instructor.     With- 

out  a  Master,  Containing  a  choice  collection  of  Banjo  Solos.  Hornpipes,  iEeels,  Jigs,  Walk  Arounds,  Songi 
and  Banjo  Stories,  progressively  arranged  and  plainly  explained,  enabling  the  learner  to  become  a  proficient 
Banjoist  without  the  aid  of  a  teacher.  The  nocessury  explanations  accompnny  each  tune,  and  are  placed 
under  the  notes  on  each  page,  plainly  showing  tho  string  rc(|uired,  the  finger  to  be  used  for  stopping  it,  th« 
manner  of  striking,  and  the  number  of  times  it  must  be  sounded.  This  is  all  arranged  and  explained  in  s« 
elear  a  manner,  and  the  method  is  so  simple  and  i-.isy  to  karn,  that  it  may  be  readily  comprehended  at  s 
glance  by  any  person,  even  of  very  limited  und('rst:iiniing.  By  this  simple  method  a  person  niiiy  master  a 
tune  in  an  hour  or  so.  Mr.  Convei^se  is  an  eminent  Professor  of  the  Banjo,  and  a  thnvousli  musician,  and 
his  plan  of  instruction  is  entirely  new  and  perfectly  easy.  This  book  is  no  catchpenny  atti'iii-,  but  is  just  what 
we  say  it  is.  The  Insteuctor  is  illustrated  with  diagrams  and  explanatory  symbols.  100  pages,  bound  in 
boards;  cloth  back.    Price. - 90 

Martine's  Sensible  Letter- Writer.    Being  a  comprehensive 

and  complete  Guide  and  Assistant  for  those  who  desire  to  carry  on  an  Epistolary  Correspondence.  Contain^ 
bag  a  large  collection  of  Model  iLetters,  on  the  simplest  matters  of  life,  adapted  to  all  ages  and  conditions ; 

E  SI  B  n  A  C  I  N  G 


Letters  of  Courtesy,  Friendship  and  Affection ; 

Letters  of  Condolence  and  Si/mpathif  ; 

A  Choice  ColUctioyi  of  Love-Letters,  for  Every  Sitiia- 

tion  in  a  Courtship  ; 
Jfoles  of  Ceremony,  FainiHar  Invitations,  etc.,  together 

with  Notes  of  Acreplanct  and  Regret. 


Bruiness  Letters ; 

Applications  for  Employment,  with  letters  of  Rtcom- 

mendalion.  and  Answers  to  Advertisements  ; 
Letters  between  Parents  and  Children ; 
liCUers  of  Friendly  Counsel  and  Remonstrance  ; 
[tetters  soliciting  Advice,   Assistance,  and  Friendly 

Favors  ; 

"The  whole  containing  300  sensible  Letters  aiid  Notes.  This  is  an  invaluable  Dook  for  those  persons  who  have 
.jot  had  sufficient  practice  to  enable  them  to  write  letters  without  great  effort.  It  contains  such  a  variety  oi 
letters,  that  models  may  be  found  to  suit  every  subject.    Bound  in  boards,  with  illuminated  Cover  and  cloth 

back,  207  jjages.     it  rice .*..    50 

Bound  in  cloth.    Price --.. — ,-„...>. 75 

Copes  (^  any  books  m  this  Cataloffue  sent  free  of  postage  upon  receipt  of   the  price.      Send  cash 
orden  to  BTC^  &  FITZGERALD,  Publishers.  Kew  York. 


GOOD  BOOKS 

Sent   Free    of  Postage   at   tb.e    Prices    ]VIarked. 


BOOKS  OF  AMUSEMENT  FOR  IN  AND  OUT  DOORS. 

The  American  Boy's  Own  Book  ot  Sports  and  (iamea  3  00 
The  Secret  Out ;  or,  One  Thousand  Tricks  with  Cards  1  50 

The  Sociable;  oi,  1,001  Home  Amusements 1  50 

The  Magician's  Own  Book 1  50 

The  Book  of  1,600  Amusinjj  Tales  and  Adventures..  1  50 

Howiird's  Book  of  Conundrums  and  Riddles 30 

How  to  Amuse  an  Evening  Party 30 

The  Play-Ground  ;  or,  Out-Door  Games  for  Boys...      50 

The  Parlor  Magician.     12 1  Engravings 30 

The  Book  of  500  Curious  Puzzles 30 

Book  of  Riddles  and  500  Home  Amusements 30 

Parlor  Tricks  with  Cards 30 

The  Book  of  Fireside  Games 30 

Hermann's  Hand-Book  of  Magic 25 

SPEAKERS,  RECITERS,  DIALOGUES  AND  PARLOR 
'J  THEATRICALS. 

Burlesque  arid  Musicaf  Acting  Cha^des •*  30 

Frost's  Humorous  and  Exhibition  Dialogues \30 

Martine's  DroU   Dialogues  and  Laughable  Recita- 
tions.    I <^  paces 30 

Howard's  ^i  )ok  ot  Drawing-  Room  Theatricals 30 

Hudson'^  Private  Theatricals  for   Home  Perform- 
ance.    180  pages 30 

Spencer's  Book  of  Comic  Speeches  and  Humorous 

Recitations.     192  cages 30 

Frost's  Book  ot  Tableaux,  and  Shadow  Pantomimes.  80 
Barton's   Comic   Recitations  and  Humorous  Dia- 
logues.    188  pages SO 

Brudder  Bones'  Book  of  Stump  Speeches  and  Bur- 
lesque Orations 30 

Wilson's  Book  of  Recitations  and  Dialogues 30 

Frost's  Dialogues  for  Young  Folks 30 

Amateur  Theatricals  and  Fairy  Tale  Dramas 30 

Parlor  Theatricals.     lUu.'^trated 30 

The  Parlor  Stage.     368  pages 150 

COOK  AND  RECEIPT  BOOKS. 

Mrs.  Orowen's  Americm  Lady'.s  Cookery  Book 2  00 

Inquire  Within  ;  or,  3,700  Facts  for  the  People 1  50 

Wright's  Book  of  3,000  American  Receipts 1  50 

The  American  Housewife  and  Kitchen  Directory...      30 

How  to  Cook  and  How  to  Carve 30 

How  to  Cook  Potatoes,  Apples,  Eggs  and  Fish 30 

American  Home  Cook  Book 30 

Rarey  and  Know'Bon's  Complete  Horse  Tamer  and 

Farrier 5C 

Arts  of  Beauty  ;  or,  Secrets  of  a  Lady's  Toilet 75 

The  Ladies'  Guide  to  Beauty 25 

LETTER  WRITERS  AND  ETIQUETTE. 

Frost's  Original  Lett,  r  Writer 60 

Frost's  Laws  and  By-Laws  of  American  Society....       30 

The  Art  of  Dressing  Well 30 

North's  Book  of  Love- Letters 50 

Martine's  Sensible  Letter  Writer 50 

Martine's  Hand-Book  of  Etiquette   and   Guide  to 

"True  Politene.S8 50 

Martine's  Letter  Writer  and  Book  of  Etiquette  Com- 
bined   1  50 

The  Perfect  Gentleman 1  50 

Chesterfield's  Letter  Writer  and  Complete  Book  of 

Etiquette 40 

The  Art  of  Conversation 25 

Bridal  Etiquette 10 

How  to  Behave  ;  or,  the  Spirit  of  Etiquette 10 

Blunders  in  Behavior  Corrected 10 

BOOKS  ON  GAMES. 

The  American  Hoyle ;  or,  Gentleman's  Hand-Book  of 

Games 8  00 

The  Modern  Pocket  Hoyle 50 

Spayth's  Game  of  Draughts 1  50 

Spayth's  Draughts  or  Checkers  for  Beginners....      75 

The  Game  of  Draughts  or  Checkers  Simplified .50 

Marache's  Manual  of  Chess 50 

The  Game  of  Billiards.    By  Michael  Phelan 1  50 

How  Gamblers  Win  ;  or,  the  Secrets  of  Advantage 

Playing  Exposed 30 

One  Hundred  Tricks  with  Cards 30 

BOOKS  ON  WINES  AND  LIQUORS- 

The  Bartender's  Guide ;  or,  How  to  Mix  Drinks...  2  50 

The  Independent  Liquovist 3  00 

The  French  Wine  and  Liquor  Manufacturer 3  00 

The  Bordeaux  Wine  and  Liquor  Dealer's  Guide....  2  50 
Laconr  on  the  Manufacture  of  Liquors 2  50 


i         READT  RECKONERS. 

Day's  American  Keady  Reckoner 50 

Brisbane's  Golden  Ready  Reckoner 40 

GYMNASTICS  AND  BOXING. 

Athletic  Sports  for  Boys 75 

The  Science  of  Sell- Defence '. 75 

Boxing  Made  Easy  ;  or  Manual  of  Self-Defence 15 

BOOKS  ON  DANCING- 

The  Art  ot  Dancing  ;  or.  Etiquette  of  the  Bail-Room  50 

Hill'.rrove's  Ball- Room  Guide 75 

DeWalden's  Ball- Room  Companion 50 

Frank  Converse's  Complete  Banjo  Instructor 50 

BOOKS  ON  SPEAKING  AND  WRITING. 

How  to  Write  a  Composition 50 

Day's  Book-Keeping  without  a  Master 60 

French  Self-Taught.     By  Franz  Thimm 25 

Barber's  American  Book  of  Ready -Made  Speeches.  30 

The  Young  Debater  and  Chairman's  Assistant 30 

The  Young  Reporter  ;  or.  How  to  Write  Short-Hand  50 

The  Finger-Post  of  Public  Business 1  50 

Live  and  Learn 75 

The  Poet's  Companion 25 

How  to  Talk  and  Debate 10 

Mind  Your  Stops  ;  or.  Punctuation  made  Plain 10 

HUMOROUS  BOOKS  \ 

Adventures  of  Mr.  Obadiah  Oldbuck 30 

Snip-Snaps  and  Snickerings  of  isimon  Snodgrass....  25 

The  AVonderful  Adventures  of  Bachelor  Butterfly . .  30 

Uncle  Josh's  Trun.';  Full  of  Fun 15 

Sut  Lovingood's  Yarns 1  50 

The  Harp  of  a  Thousand  Strings 1  50 

Mrs.  Partington's  Carpet-Bag  ot  Fun 76 

Dr.  Valentine's  Comic  Lectures 75 

The  Book  of  1,000  Comical  Stories 1  50 

The  Knapsack  Full  of  Fun 30 

The  Comic  English  Grammar  ;  with  Comic  Examples  25 

The  Plate  ot  Chowder  ;  A  Dish  for  Funny  Fellows. . .  30 

Adventures  of  Messrs.  Brown,  Jones,  and  Robinson..  30 

Laughing  Gas.     Over  300  Jokes 25 

Chips  from  Uncle  Sam's  Jack-knife 25- 

The  Comical  Adventures  of  David  Di  <*^t1:= 25 

The  Courtship  of  Chevalier  Sly-Fox  'W  ykoli. . ......  ia 

Extraordinary  Adventures  of  Oscar  Shanghai 25 

Yale  College  Scrapes ;  or,  How  the  Boys  Go  It  at 

New  Haven ". 25 

The  Comic  Wandering  Jew 25 

Ned  Turaer's  Black  Jokes 10 

Ned  Turner's  Clown  Joke  Book 10 

Charley  White's  Joke  Book , 10 

Black  Wit  and  Darkey  Con  versa tions 10 

Charley  Fox's  Ethiopian  Comicalities 10 

Broad  Grins  of  the  Laughing  Philosopher 10 

FORTUNE-TELLERS  AND  DREAM  BOOKS. 

The  Combination  Fortune-Tel  I  er  and  Dictionary  of 

Dreams 1  25 

Fontaine's  Dream  Book  and  Fortune-Teller 40 

Madame  le  Normand's  Unerring  Fortune  Teller.. . .  40 
Le  Marchand's  Fortune  Teller  and  Dreamer's  Dic- 
tionary    40 

Pettengill's  Perfect  Fortune-Teller  and  Dream  Book  40 

The  Egyptian  Dream  Book  and  Fortune  Teller 40 

The  Everlasting  Fortune-Teller  and  Dream  Book...  30 

The  Lady's  Love  Oracle 30 

Mother  Cary's  Dream  Book  and  Fortune-Teller 15 

Aristotle's  Book  of  Fate  and  Dictionary  of  Dreams.  15 

The  Hindoo  Foi tune-Teller  and  Oracle  of  Destiny. .  15 

BOOKS  ON  LOVE  AND  COURTSHIP. 

The  Dictionary  of  Love 1  50 

Anecdotes  of  Love 1  50 

The  Laws  of  Love 30 

The  Al-ma-kan-tur  Circle 25 

Courtship  Made  Easy IC 

How  to  Win  and  How  to  Woo K 

MASONIC  BOOKS- 

Allyn's  Ritual  of  Freemasonry 5  00 

Richardson's  Monitor  of  Freemasonry 75 

Duncan's  Masonic   Ritual ;  or.  Guide  to  the  Three 

Symbolic  Degrees  of  the  Ancient  York  Bite... .  2  50 
Jachin  and   Boaz ;   or.   An   Authentic  Key  to  the 

Door  of  Freemasonry,  both  Ancient  and  Modem  1  60 

A  Catalogue  of  Books  on  Freemasonry 1  25 

Morgan's  Freemasonry  Exposed  and  Explained....  25 


Copies  of  the  above  Books  sent  to  any  address  in  the  United  States,  free  of  postage.       ^  \ 

Send  Cash  Orders  to  DICK  A  FITZGER4L.D,  1§  Ann  Street,  N.  Y. 


